The light remains, because feel is a word full of traps.
It's enough just to love him, to be with him in my thoughts and to color this lovely city with his steps, his words, his love. When I leave this country, it will have a face and a name and the memory of a fireplace. Everything else I experienced here, all the difficulties I had to overcome, will be as nothing compared to that memory.
If we are alone, we become more alone. Life is strange.
People learn, early in their lives, what is their reason for being. Maybe that's why they give up on it so early, too. But that's the way it is.
And that, in the end, the most interesting people always leave.
I'm not happy, he says. I have everything a man could dream of, but I'm not happy.