Just when I thought no one visited you, since your relatives are long perished and you are falling apart and collapsing in a last miserable attempt for attention or maybe to recruit believers, I find that there are who promise you so that you promise too.
So you do not belong only to me, nor are your sole visits from who grooms you, trim your hair and fill your holes spread by decay, you also belong to those who come to you for help, even if you only portray the reminder of a brief time lapse, one example among millions of life’s expiring date in the form of a sepulchre. You exist, resist and stay, maybe for longer than those cremated or disappeared, but not forever.
You are just one of many, but mine. Life and fortuity made us meet, as they could have made meet others, but so it is, and I want you. Si el roce hace el cariño mi hollar te hará encariñar.
Some say you’ll give me protection and there is who suggests I use my visits for something else. I am satisfied with your gifts; there was long time the streets did not offer me its treasures.