Testamento de Miércoles

I want to clarify that this will is not the usual life epilogue, rather it is a fragile legacy valid only towards the end of a day let's say that I bequeath to Thursday the concerns that Tuesday brought me, changed just a little by dreams and that inevitable sadness. I bequeath a cloud of mosquitoes and a computer that has no batteries and even my loneliness with the hope that my heirs do not accept it. I bequeath to Thursday four regrets, the rain that I watch and does not wet me, and the ritual fern that intimidates me with the old elegance of its leaves. I bequeath the blue creak of my hinges and a slice of my light shadow not all because a man without his shadow loses the respect of good people. I bequeath the neck that I have washed as if for a Thursday of gallows or guillotine and a demeanor that I do not know if it is modesty or unhealthy stupidity or joy. I bequeath the outskirts of an idea, a triptych of mirrors that hurts me, the sea there within reach, the ivy that fans the walls. And only now I think that in my tree, in my faceless mists, and in my wine, I still have so many stories to bequeath, some of which hide in oblivion. So just in case, and to avoid distressing those who inherit from me, I leave them for another will, let's say the one for Friday.