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Silence is a privilege that became more evident from the first days of lockdown, so I sought to protect a minute of it, as a tribute to our dead lost by the health system, those who filled the streets and the internet, those that we still do not know where they are buried. The walls are turning blue and bats change the sky for birds.

I deduced then that we sublimate the absences, that the muffled voices absorb them and liberate the earth, that is why the houses creak at night, as a random error of broken pixels in a city that cannot measure the real magnitude of its loss, which would exceed by 10 the official number of missing. Silence is the oxygen where the music burns and the noise of his corpse.

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