The voyage reached an epilogue that commenced at the dreaded destination. On the island that tortures colours with its imitation of creativity, the companera concealed her knowledge of a common unity. She preserved the definition of her name in the books that led her to the island of contradictory landscapes.
The companero was writing with a steady hand, embroidering cascades of yellowish paper with his calligraphy. The scent of his words wafted to her room in wisps of delicate clouds.
He never concealed his name. It was the embodiment of loyalty.