Objective: the Black Dots - Revista Anfibia

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The river martilles the rabid coast. The buildings have lost their domes, heads and terraces in the fog. The clouds form a pewter wall that the wind pushes, beneath the bodies are black spots on the pale city. Abandoning the sheets, the tall man olysquees and treasures the nightly perfumes of sex, shaves. The last button of the pechera enters his buttonhole, accommodates the fringes of the red charreteras, adjusts the strapping and serves milk t…