Esto es temporal.

Esto no me sobrevivirá, porque los bytes pertenecen a una compañía que día y noche busca la manera de dejar de regalarlos.

Esto no tiene destinatarios.

Esto no tiene autor.

Todo esto es y será simplemente una mala interpretación de quien lo mire. De quien lo escuche, de quien lo lea.

Si le dejo la puerta abierta es para que el día en que lo abandone... sepa sobrevivir.

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I'm looking to the horizon in hope; waiting for the day when I am finally able to hide them between the rest of their kind. To bury them in the grave they deserve. To let them in a bench, in the darkest corner, in the highest atriums, in the widest shelves.

For when I disappear, they could wait for their true owner in silence, in peace. Their true love. The one who will take care of them, love them, kiss them and speak to them with the warmth I can not give. 

Then, I'll be quiet, I'll be shut. And you won't have to think anymore that all this is for you. It never was.