That was half a year and a lifetime ago. For a second I feel a rush of sadness: for the horizons that vanish behind us, for the people we leave behind, the tiny-doll selves that get stored away and ultimately buried.

“Esto es, después de todo, el punto. No sabes qué va a pasar si derribas los mur…”

“Is this freedom? Is it happiness? I don't know. I don't care anymore. It is dif…”

“It's funny, isn't it? When you are young you just want to be old, and then late…”

“My first kiss. A new kind of kiss, like the new kind of music still playing, so…”