Book: Just together. Page 1

He wanted to shrink into a ball and bury itself in the sheet, so that, God forbid, not to Wake up, but someone held him by the wrists.
The pain was real, and he realized that it wasn't a dream: once it hurts, it means that the happiness of the present.

Let me say two things. The first concerns the intellectuals, rotten
intellectuals, nerds, eggheads... very simple - kill them... Yeah, it's damn easy. Most often fists at them no damn good, and it's not like they have to fight... Fight excites them no more clatter of boots on the pavement, swakara medals and big black cars, so... Enough to deprive them of the book, a guitar, a pencil or a camera, and now they are good for nothing, these assholes... by the Way, dictators often do just that: break glasses, burn books and ban the concerts - it costs them nothing, moreover - helps to avoid problems in the future... But you know what... If being "an intellectual" is to love to learn, show curiosity and attention, to admire the world, tremble with excitement, trying to understand how it works, and going to bed at night, feel slightly less of a jerk than before, yeah! - I'm an intellectual and proud of it... Even terribly proud of.

Well, fell in love, what the hell... You too will fall in love, see for yourself... It is impossible not to love... This guy, he... He alone can light up this whole town...

They looked at each other, understand each other without words and started a silent conversation. Of course, on how bad it is to live away from each other, about youth and about nature, about death, about loneliness, about how quickly time passes, the happiness to be together and that everything in life isn't working out the way you plan.

- He just forgot about me... I'm starting to get used to...
- So why stay with him?
- Not to be alone...

the strangest, the most marginal, the most viable one becomes strong when he is loved and accepted.

- Coffee?
- No coke, please.

- Another folly. What's the why? Why must everything always measure the usefulness? I don't care if it will be useful to me or not, now I know what it is.

The place was dull.
Smelled like glue, warm "Phantom" and the unrealized dreams of glory.

Sixty-kilo call common sense.

She loved him and didn't love, were ready to surrender and did not give up, she tried - and she did not believe.

To live with the people stopping their stupidity, not the differences.

... It was the number five, and she listened to it fourteen times, no less.
And on the fourteenth time her chest finally exploded and crumbled into a thousand pieces...

... Talking with her is like ping-pong to play: she kept the pace and cut the ball into the corners in the most unexpected moments, and he seemed not so much a nerd...