Short story, long way

One day I arrived at an unknown house,
I was travelling and as in every journey one does not know well
how it will go
and sometimes where you’re going.
I went into the sleeping room
after being alone in the room for a while
I said to myself that I needed a confirmation
What was it that brought me here?
There were no windows.

Next to me was a small cubicle in the wall with little glass doors
with little glass doors
I opened it without thinking.
He was secretly guarding his figure,
the image in an old cardboard
and cared for
he was a traveller like me
his wings showed me my wings.
It was a letter without words.

Libertad Esmeralda Iocco