Bilhete

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Será que eu posso te tocar uma música? A música dos pássaros? Deste azul aqui sem profundidade escrevo. Sinto tua falta. Sinto saudade das coisas que não fomos. Fecho meus olhos e vejo os teus e Vítor na sala me chama. No quarto, Adriana.

À beça,
Keiko

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