“What bothers me all the time is missing you. This absence is the void that leaves me in a solitude always present at the destination. I feel that living without you (is ever) more difficult to measure the hours pass, and hours turn into days and days turn into years. Years with that knot in my chest that apparently did not unfasten till I find you again, and escorted your hands in mine.”
— Odestinodascoisas.