por Carlos Navascués Falces | enero 11, 2026 | ciclismo y literatura | 0 Comentarios
Voló tan alto que se sintió inalcanzable.
La desdicha
Miró atrás: nadie.
Descendió soñando en grande.
La anhelada y siempre efímera gloria le nubló todo su ser.
Tomó la última curva y allí estaba ella, esperándole, impasible.
Cerró los ojos para no verla, pero ya era tarde.
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