Icarus

I’ll steal another glance at that pale morning sun, hanging low over the primordial city. At this dawn, not a distant pinpoint but the size of a silver dollar in my vision.

A herculean, gloating summer sun. Against the cornflower Spanish sky, it scrapes the very summit of the stone parapets.

So close I could feel it, taste it, wrap my greedy fingers around it; it’s mine if I imagine it so.

Tan cerca que podía sentirlo, saborearlo, rodearlo con mis dedos codiciosos; es mío si así lo imagino.