She needed to rest from those things that she felt and that didn’t leave her alone. But it was her dreams that begged to be shaped, turned, honed, written. Sip by sip, they defeated her and took on a life of their own.

Necesitaba descansar de esas cosas que sentía y que no la dejaban sola. Pero eran sus sueños los que pedían ser moldeados, torneados, pulidos, escritos. Sorbo a sorbo, la derrotaron y cobraron vida propia.

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