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This quote was added by user263053
El viento azotaba los altos del valle, arrojando su rencor a las fustigadas hojas de los sauces. Sobre su cabeza el cielo se tornaba de una tonalidad ocre, despidiendo lágrimas que arrastraban el sudor que emergía de su rostro descompuesto; su respiración entrecortada y jadeante acompasaba el sonido de la tupida hierba reseca aplastada sin miramientos bajo sus desnudos pies.

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Name WPM Accuracy
user508247 116.63 98.4%
user535474 108.12 97.2%
epzilon 107.97 92.2%
user535474 106.07 97.7%
user508247 104.48 97.9%
user535474 104.31 96.7%
user508247 104.17 96.9%
user535474 104.07 98.2%

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