Subsuelo

A live body that is changed by a corpse. A pool. A flash. A swamp. And the twins, who share a secret that does not seem easy to escape from. Like a murmur beneath the centenary earth, adolescent indifference can be truncated by the water’s stillness; hardly an instant within that night that transpires venom. Family, memories, past. Ants.

The hidden roots that are always present and so active: pressing the sentence’s muscle. Like the two-handed pulse that forces suicidal solutions. Like the umbilical cord that unites and separates, that ties and squeezes. Till death. Till guilt. Two summers are enough for the valley’s plot to become the stage of a perfect emotional torture.