Transcripción. Aquel verano en nuestro barrio se desató una ola de locura. Recuerdo los bultos cubiertos con mantas grises en mitad de la calle, impecables. Uno se imagina que después de caer desde una gran altura, un cuerpo debería esparcirse en pedazos, salpicar manchas de sangre a su alrededor o, al menos, dejar un zapato…
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