Sombra Larga

About this title

This story is about the future, but not a distant future, nor imagined. This is an immediate future loaded with present, converted into a verb, doer. They are daughters but at the same time they are their own mothers. Unique, but multiple. Rooted and cloned. In the mountain there are wild horses; in the background, bells are heard. Some bouquets appear that dress the doors. May evil go away, may good flourish. A white string ties fruits, branches and bark. Protect us from our breath. Each one weighs 100gr. In the sea, sky and land. A cardiorespiratory arrest. Even if you are the tree of death, we will resurrect you if you die. A snap of fingers, and the audience begins to applaud.