More and more there are women with green eyes.
More and more trains are running late.
More and more people enter with esteem
a large hall where the hangmen wait.
More and more the tall poplars dry out.
More and more the towns are left still.
More and more departures without any news.
More and more drafts that give us a chill.
More and more there are people scared of the blue.
More and more beggars pull you by the tie.
More and more strangers are standing on the stairs.
More and more people who ask us why.