A multifarious procession comes diving from the ninth floor and, strictly abiding by the laws of physics, gains in speed with every second it falls. If one looks intently at it, one would see that its viscosity allows it to grow and shrink in size. A precise description of said procession would prove very difficult, if the author of these words hadn’t encouraged it in the first place. As the contrary is true, I can further tell you that among the procession one can spot bits of carrots, peas, beans and potatoes, dancing in a vulgar, soup agglutinant that joins everything together, it has the same pale colour; but never mind that, now that the lush procession is about to hit the ground. If my calculations are correct, it should be dashing in front of a third floor window at this very moment.
Everything comes to an end with a hard splash against the tile floor. The members of this procession are now scattered on the courtyard, and may later be responsible for the tripping of an unwary tenant, if they are not lucky enough to be licked into oblivion by a pet, or become the subject of an indignant complaint by letter.
Taken of Perros en el cielo
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