At night, with the lights off,
she looked through the panes of glass,
between the familiar gaps in the shutters.

Her clothes fell on the chair, first large, then smaller,
until they reach the okra color of her body.

Walking or sitting, her movements had the useless innocence of someone who believes themselves unobserved and the unforeseen tenderness of tiredness.

She fell asleep. To dreams. And wishes.