She was bathing in that busy beach. The waters were extremely cold, although that summer had been dry and sunny. He arrived rudly, as always, and he immediately showed her all those buildings. He dominated that space. There weren't boundaries for him. He took a towel to give her and when she was drying, looked at him, spat on the ground and left him, he never say anything that her mother had had a bit space ground there, that had been robbed by that crapulence and that her father had died squeezed; working to those wonderful sellers, you always had to satisfy.
He friendly would say later, with a wine glass in his dirty hand that he didn't understand why someone didn't fall in love after knowing him.
She spat another time, far away
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