La Mar Tapada

She spoke of the exhaustion that bent our bodies already by midday. How we dragged our feet pretending to be summer elders, mocking the pain in our knees. She said that a middle-aged woman stopped her car and asked if we needed a ride. She remembered how hungry we were, and the name of the yard where we sat eating our only sandwich. Do you remember too? She asked. And I said no. I don't remember the exhaustion, the pain,  the kindness, the yard... I remember dozens of butterflies dying on the melting road, yellow,  slightly moving their  wings  like crushed flowers breathing  under an imaginary breeze. such slow and excruciating death, burning on the hell of asphalt. And we were so young, so mindless and happy, full of future, dreaming of  gentle dragons and fierce  and strong princesses. Oh, so many days ahead! Oh, the glory, waiting for us, majestic like a black stallion! Do you remember how people looked at us when we entered the bar? And how you re...