Book: Watch

... we write books, are not able to change the world, despite our gifts and ongoing efforts, despite our wildest expectations.

Full is never certain.

It is open, please, but don't make a step forward.

Not all people are made for each other.

- I'd like to throw my ashes after death.
- What a wild idea!
Well, sometimes I think about these things. It is impossible not to think.

When I go to the stores and see all this shit all this, I may say, the products, all these goods, all this is, who screams from all sides: the buy-buy-buy-buy, and approached me some long-haired painted girl and asks: "can I help You?" the only thing I want is to yell "Bitch, you're the most can not help myself!"

... lying on the double bed in a room with drawn curtains and lit the bedside lamp, she mentally said to herself: yeah, so, that's how crazy. Previously, it seemed to her that this has to happen otherwise - imagining of a person (a woman, a lot like her), losing her mind, she imagined hallucinations, groans and cries; it was found, however, that is different, much quieter and more hopeless.

If the world were different, she would have done what I read.

When you are treated like the enemy, tired.

For five years she learned to make fake enthusiasm for the business, which it absolutely is not interested, when in fact she wants to be praised and released on all four sides.

Really uncomplicated in Clarissine memory and after three decades it remains a kiss at dusk on a strip of dead grass and a walk around the pond to the accompaniment of a mosquito sound. This was some sort of incomparable perfection, partly due to the fact that it seemed to be promised more. Now she knows that this was the moment of happiness. The only experience happiness in her life.

Laura like to think (it's one of her biggest secrets), which in itself also had a spark of originality, a dash of greatness, although it is aware that such a sweet suspicion as some little buds, live almost in every human being, live and die, never revealed. Pushing a shopping trolley in the supermarket or sitting under the dryer at the hairdresser, she asked herself, as do all other women the same thing: here is a great soul, who knows sorrow and joy, here is a woman supposed to be not here voluntarily engaged in such a mundane and in fact such stupid things: picking the tomatoes, dry the hair in a Barber shop, because this is its duty and creativity. Because the world survived, the war ended, and our goal is to get families to bear and raise children, to create not just books or paintings but a new, harmonious universe in which children should be provided with security (if not happiness), and men survivors of unimaginable horror, fought bravely and skillfully, - bright living room, the smell of perfume, starched tablecloths, napkins.

- I love you. It sounds corny, Yes?
- No.

You should visit a love too far, she told herself, and lose their citizenship in the country in which you yourself have created for themselves. Just going to float from port to port.