A veces siento que mi casa no está todavía armada. Que mi departamentito de balcón lindo y plantitas que riego tampoco es mío, ni mis vecinos son mis vecinos, ni el ascensor es mi ascensor. Mi casa está en algún lugar con árboles frutales y mucho pasto lindo y verde para caminar descalza y me gustaría que el mar esté del otro lado de la ventana grande que imagino sobre la mesada de la cocina donde cocinamos pancitos en invierno y tomamos una chocolatada caliente con chocolate águila.

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