The sequel to Alzheimer's
has come to our Senate.
Once, I wanted to
go and offer her to
the residence and
see what the farewell has happened.
Always after that, it's
too late.

IV.
As soon as I
needed it, I
would always go home to
my
aunt, who
was Agin's second mother, a job
I
had never given her in my whole life.

II. The pastelillo
would
have been wrong a
few times; in the end he hardly
talked.
I couldn't heal us, because
it was always getting worse.
I didn't want to go to the visits because
I was afraid.

V Almost
every
day at Mass we used to be
at home and then we moved in
laziness.
I couldn't always tell why
I was there naturally.
"Hi Aunt," I told
her to suspect.

III.
The glory and
the colloquium withered.
All that remained unchanged:
My value.
I can hold inside
me a well
of
images that I've never seen.

VI
I know I had to
swallow a thousand pills
and that would make me
much more
unknown. Despite having lost it,
I will never forget
that the witch died of
sadness from Alzheimer's.