They exist at night as a light phenomenon. They are ghosts. They tell a story. A moment of their lives. Delicately, each one drinks their tea. People around here say they are at least three, maybe four, or five or six. They don’t know each other. Some come, some go, some come, some go, and this happens throughout time, for eternity. To listen to these women is to know life fully, to start living when people outside have already fallen asleep, when the village of Quintas becomes a small dot of light in this vast loneliness of the universe. Women, nights and secrets.
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