The streets in front of him exploded. He saw the thick smoke surrounding the shooting and could hardly follow a path that he knew where he went. He took off the gloves and repeated by heart the two songs she knew. All were sung during the march and the immense rise of gunpowder reminded him of the front. Good memories. The friends who were racing vulgar, pornographic magazines loans, purchases of trust that a man can do only when life is at stake and death lurks. He continued his journey through the center. The sky was clearing up. Midnight had gone from a little 'and the toasts were already less frequent. We celebrated a year that was not yet known. As he recalled that walk with the years he knew. Every New Year he liked to stay out while everything was destroyed. Those explosions were the return to war. It gave him the sense of things unsaid, things that could have said, friends who could leave in a different way and those that would be closer. Every new year going back there. At his guerrra. The expedition failed for everyone. But not for him. That he could not go. A fever can save you and condemn you to talk with your friends only in the midnight when the world explodes and you would say that is not needed. So that they are still there. That these arguments were the way to get under each other. And even then the weather changes. Nobody is shooting more and finally come out of that cloud. Lay a flower, like every year, the officer in front of the house. As a reminder that to flourish is just the life you have had the courage to cultivate. Despite everything. Then go home. By his nephew in which he explained that the war is every day. That nobody has to fight for you, but you have someone to do it with you. Will you like about them. Of all of them. When there were, and gave you advice, and we kept joking with you that you were there. With them. Your nephew will understand very well. E'intelligente and loves to hear you talk about the friends you lost. In the only war that you could not fight. The body was theirs. The blood was yours. But say that you have lost, they are still here. That love does not end the war. Because there is a war that can kill a friendship. No war is stronger than us. Semper fidelis.
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