Hometown of my mom.
Second hometown of my childhood.

We used to play along this beach.
We still do.
Even helping the fishermen pull their nets
was a game for us, too.

We thrilled ourselves on playing tag
with waves that lap on the shore.
Or simply stood still
waiting for the waters
to gently submerge our feet
in its fine sandy floor.

I lost a cousin in those waves.
He was never found.
We still remember him especially on stormy nights
when the waves explode like canonballs
furiously hitting on the shore.

Too many good memories of Tolosa.
Not so good memories, too.
But she always leaves a place for me
to find myself,
linger a while
then move on.

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