We are made one for the other. I know. She doesn't. She doesn't know she loves me. Not yet.
Written on monday april 29, 2013
from the book "" by Alessandro D'Avenia
We are made one for the other. I know. She doesn't. She doesn't know she loves me. Not yet.
A smile can have degrees of unsuspected intensities.
The only way of seeing the stars is not wishing but hurting oneself.