|
|
It was not necessary that I was speaking myself about her illusion before because I know it. The one who does not feel moved when it begins her own home? I saw her closely to weep for the tears of the pain and of the frustration, though as a shade. She was packing ten years and a million histories, and also you ask, answers and uncertainty. There was no one only day in the one that was not waking my admiration up and, in the honesty of a heart that remained absent and quiet, I knew that the move was destroying a great part of she.
|
