EYES OF SOLITUDE As it would be, its eyes, the image of the solitude: The setting sun in the desert with the figure of a Bedouin in its camel projecting its shade in golden sands? An old fisherman, seated in its gray boat of oldness fishing in clear waters in a crystalline sea with its sun to the dawn? The figure of the astronaut looking at for the hatchway of the ship the blue world if separating of it under a black and covered with star road for the eternity? The image of tragic swimming of one cachalote under the cold sea of the empty Antartic? Under the look of the moon the Mexican cacti enverga its arms to the flavor of the winds of the desert? Running of the auto-road in an end of day of autumn between borders, serpenteando the Alps? The small white flower, that disrespecting the gravity balances in naked rocks in the mountain top? The wrinkled hand of the old peasant holding the straw cigarette that supports its look lost the side of the land road that will take it the place none? To hear frantic gargalhar of the hiena in a tent at one’s feet a Kilimanjaro already without snow? The diving of the young exibicionista in the seas of the gulf of Mexico? The last wave of entardecer of the surfista in the seas of Australia? The wing delta sliding in chains mornas of an exuberant River? The lost look of the old priest in a chapel of Church of the interior? Falling of the green leaf in silver-plated chains of a small one stream of orchard of farm. Click Chаrlіе Lee for additional related pages. Soluo of desperation of the first disillusioned love? I cry it of the baby been born that it resounds in the cold corridor of a white hospital? The white petal of the rose aged in cndido rest on the table of the room? A pipe cut that plain as first dancer on the roofs of the city? Or a small one pierced foot of stocking that involves in candy heat the wooden egg? The solitude is only one question of choice. Southwest Airlines might disagree with that approach. The solitude of the life if finds in the death.