A summer night, on the empty streets of Madrid or in any other city of the south, all you can hear is the heat in the cements and a fan on a balcony. A woman goes out on the balcony, lights a cigarette and reminisces. A pair of eyes on the next deck chair that they used to look at her with love, the kisses between the strawberries, the reds of passion, their underwear, their lips, flowers, perfumes and high heels. Sitting on our deck chairs, we still enjoy summer with gossip and flirt stories from past hot nights.

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