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I was the only customer, nursing a warm beer. The owner, Don Tacho, a man whose face looked like a cracked adobe wall, didn’t seem surprised. He just pointed a gnarled finger at the glowing machine.
“The man who owns that voice.”
“Who?”
And outside, the rain stopped. Because the dead were already inside.
And in that silence, a voice—neither young nor old, but timeless—whispered directly behind my ear:
I was the only customer, nursing a warm beer. The owner, Don Tacho, a man whose face looked like a cracked adobe wall, didn’t seem surprised. He just pointed a gnarled finger at the glowing machine.
“The man who owns that voice.”
“Who?”
And outside, the rain stopped. Because the dead were already inside. discografia completa de vicente fernandez
And in that silence, a voice—neither young nor old, but timeless—whispered directly behind my ear: I was the only customer, nursing a warm beer