From the book dont Cry for me Alice . A mystery crime novel of politics in the year 1946
It was gone . That rickety old bike. No longer there . Something was missing from her life . The ringer of humanity had squeezed the very purchase from Alice .
She felt pressed into a jar .Satiated by something she couldnt place again . Her life had been reduce to clear this from the thoughts.
They wouldn't stop coming. The what if,s . Had something happened she couldn't recollect?
It was dark in the streets.
The streets of Cemeterio de Recolleta . A seedy backwash of Tango bars and murder and scum which they reviled in . Her misted mind like a blue room of some distant disillusion . Would they come for her next?
Evita was casting passion from the Balcony of Casa into her soulace. That part of the day where things cleared from the moires of depression .Silken lines appeared in her reverenced passion for lifestyle.Something moderated had been lifted.
He appeared again to run forelocks down the main streets of her thoughts .Like being cast from some airplane She was alive again !
He was alive . Once more the culinary cuisine would become her staple . A rock to form her thoughts .
