That night was cold, my hands felt the cold caress of the wind and my lips split apart to feel the kiss of winter. It was very had lost its way, no longer knew where I was going to not remember my past and my future was no more. My clothes torn by the hands of time, little cover and yet I was still alive. That night was different to many, was a huge moon that covered the black sky. Contemplating the moon was beautiful, when I realized that before me were two roads, it was difficult to decide which to take, because it did not matter, because no matter where I go, the course had been like the music that sounded in my mind days ago, nothing was my effort to remember, because after a long time to walk the only sound that occupied my mind was that of the days go by. Take the right path, why? I do not know, maybe an instinct, some memories are deep within my mind frozen in the days of December. December, for some strange reason I knew it was December, when a new path was in front of me, take it and come to a destroyed house, walked through the door or what was left of it and there without a scratch a little time book, opening its pages were blank note. Why a book without letters? I had no sense at the end of Book a caption: "Life holds the hair of the dead." I had no sense at the time, would not imagine how important that to me later.
