"驴Cu谩les son las ra铆ces que arraigan, qu茅 ramas crecen
en estos p茅treos desperdicios? Oh hijo del hombre,
no puedes decirlo ni adivinarlo; tu s贸lo conoces
un mont贸n de im谩genes rotas, donde el sol bate,
y el 谩rbol muerto no cobija..."
We鈥檝e updated our privacy policy so that we are compliant with changing global privacy regulations and to provide you with insight into the limited ways in which we use your data.
You can read the details below. By accepting, you agree to the updated privacy policy.
