B / Sangre

Sangre. ...Cursed be the man, cursed till the end of times in our eyes. His constant pressure has cornered and massacred us; and we were pushed to the deepest of the mountains' forests. Damned be the human, because he turned our home into hate... Because he gave us his rancour. We'll give him his fear; in the icy winter nights. Till the end of times. ["...In the profound, oxygenated nights of January; when the moon gets stuck on the thin ice that covers the pines, if a man gets lonely and lost in the hills -that may happen-, the wolves smell him. Someone told me once that if the man cops suddenly with the lonely wolf, he can't stop looking it in the eye, until he gets virtually paralyzed and numb. As it seems there is something enigmatic in those eyes.  Something luciferine and tender, ferociuous and magnetic at once. ...But the frontiers that separate both worlds -human and animal-, never will be surpassed..."]   There is an arcane in all this, something significant beats underneath. Sangre, yes, sangre. But here, the story gets broken and the bottom can't be seen.