Book: The boy with blue eyes

Life is what you make it, ' she repeated. - If you do not wish to fight, then you deserve to die.

Some were born killers.

When life deals one of the most terrible blows - the death of the father or mother, a breakup with a close friend tested positive for this terrible disease or unwanted pregnancy, a death sentence or the last step off the roof of a skyscraper, in some point of a person covers absolute carelessness, almost euphoric, and the feeling that finally clipped the thread that binds us all to our hopes. People by inertia flies in the opposite direction and is at the mercy of a full but fleeting freedom.

Where are the stories? Maybe they, like dreams, are formed in the subconscious? Or night they bring goblins? Or is it just a form of truth, a mirrored version of the probable future, but a distorted, twisted like a straw cotelcam turned into children's toys...

Pictograms, icons, animated characters and avatars are an essential part of our communication. Exactly the coat of arms on a medieval shield, they serve as our protection and opportunities to present themselves to the world; a sort of cheap arms for those who have no honor, no king, no country.

It's all in the moment. One little meaningless lie selects a suitable moment, and a tiny pebble can Wake you up a mountain avalanche. The word sometimes has the same effect. A small lie becomes this avalanche, sweeping away everything on the way, with a roar destroys the world, completely changing its shape and how to re-paving the direction of our lives.

Every lie has its own melody.

Nothing just disappears, without a trace. Nothing ever ends.

To be dead is quite simple. It's even my brothers managed. But to live with the guilt much more difficult.

Hope - that's the most evil of those demons that lurk among the other unexpected things in a little box of Pandora.

But love is a treacherous animal, a chameleon in nature: it is able for one day to turn a poor man into a king, a man of changeable in the model of stability, it can become a support for the weak and a shield for cowards - at least not yet subsided, the voice of feelings.

Child - this is also a work of art...

Love? Well, Yes. There are so many varieties of it. There is eros - the simplest and most fleeting form of love. There is philia - friendship, loyalty. There is storge - affection, like a child to his parents. Is thelema - love under will. And finally, agape - love, Platonic, friend to the world, to a stranger, whom see for the first time, to all of humanity.

Rejection is painful at any age.