30 Villanueva






 EXILADOS



 No home to return
 to. No happy air-
 port. No happy land-
 ing.
 An imprint of
 a city covered in
 fog high in the
 mountains.
 An im-
 print of a city
 like a fried
 egg in frothy
 blue sauce.
 An
 imprint of a
 city covered in
 red astride its
 limousine monster.

 An imprint of a
 house painted
 white in another
 time another
 place, whose
 inhabitants left
 for a dream and
 found it to
 their liking.