“October is gone. This is no time for you to be strolling down graveyards, wishing for the dead to grab your feet. I haven’t seen ghosts since last year, when I decided to clean my eyes from the last of the tears they’d caused. It always rains in the start of November, but I’m not going to stir the wet earth in search of hidden treasures, only to end up with muddy clothes. This is not magic, it’s just an infinity sign tied like a spell to the inside of her wrist. You can keep polishing tin foil, but it’s not going to become silver, and I refuse to dig up something that is already just bones, just rot. My friend, there has to be a time when you stop dirtying your hands for a love that is six feet under.”
— Dia dos mortos (LM)
