I saw there, about five m saying goodbye, which guide the master of ceremonies for the rare silence. Outside the niche
closed, face tilted slightly and the fingers of his right hand on the side of the nose, the eye level. I'm not sure if he cried. My head was absurdly busy trying to send telepathic messages, shouts of encouragement, fondling.
He said goodbye to her and only her. When he had finished straightened his head and turned away from the people. Passed me as if we were in sync, I went quietly to meet him, he walked around the torso with my arms and continued walking together, without stopping to the foot of a staircase.
It is so we know our inner code of silence that there was no need for anything more.
People went, were the necessary.
In my memory the image of the child seen saying goodbye to his mother.
He was also the wake of the moving farewell from the suspension in time and gas that floats the question no one dares to ask it. We will never know who really loved her or if someone really wanted.
Anyway, this is In Memoriam.
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