I’m back,

I’m back

from that place

disgustingly green

where hope drizzles reluctantly from the sky

“Will I see the tall city towers once more?

To all that is and ever existing,

Let me gently lay my head on the winter’s bosom

Let me breathe in the urban fumes,

I swear I’ll not dance la bostella again,”

those were my thoughts and wishes while still captive

in the most horrid and colorful place on earth, where beauty

and ugliness mesh too well that only a faint pain remained

after finding a saint half-smiling in hell.