Cuando pensamos en una casa del árbol, recordamos juegos de infancia, padres e hijos comprometidos en compartir y ver una travesura realizada
Hoy caminando por algunas calles perdidas, mi concepto de casa de árbol terminó.
Una casa del árbol, donde no hay niños, donde no hay padres, donde no hay sueño.
Ya no más...
Se terminó la esperanza.
Se terminó el camino de una familia, de unos padres, de unos hijos, murió la ilusión de un mañana, de un futuro...
Pero siempre, a pesar de que ya no estén, siempre habrá vida en ella. Una casa donde vive y vivirá ese árbol encerrado.
Su fruto caerá en la sala.
Sus hojas en el corredor
Sus raíces romperán el piso
Y quizá un habitante volador 🐦
Inglés
When we think of a tree house, we remember childhood games, parents and children engaged in sharing and seeing a mischief come to fruition.
Today walking down some lost streets, my treehouse concept came to an end.
A tree house, where there are no children, where there are no parents, where there is no sleep.
*No more...
The hope is over.
The path of a family, of parents, of children, the illusion of a tomorrow, of a future... is over.
But always, in spite of the fact that they are no longer there, there will always be life in it. A house where that enclosed tree lives and will live.
Its fruit will fall in the living room.
Its leaves in the hallway
Its roots will break the floor
And maybe a flying inhabitant 🐦.
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