Author of quotes: Lara Gaal

... When we were arguing with your dad (and we were arguing mostly because it seemed to me that it is not true solves my whimsical charades, and then - Oh, horror! - nobody loves me), he ran to catch his breath, panting from an acute shortage of words. And I covered you with his hands on top of the ball belly and bitterly lamented that here, we do not understand, do not like, and we were left alone together, but we each other not leaving, ever, and always understand without words... Dad your back, put before us a blossoming sprig of plum, said his meek "I'm sorry". He quickly convinced himself that the blame myself. Even when you do not understand what. So he's a Man. Precious. Then there were twigs with flowers of cherries, then cherry, Apple twigs. The flowering fruit trees of the South were represented in the propitiation of the Goddess of Imaginary Pain. Ah, the luxury of quarrels about anything! It's a sweet madness to risk all or nothing! As I was not afraid then to claim that I was just guessing. Without words. Because what else is love, if not for this correctness of understanding each other? So I thought then. Now... well, never mind.

... Or is it different somehow called?
What is it called when the very thought of a person disables you completely, cutting off from all the world, immersed in a dimension where only he and the edge of consciousness, are you?
Just love? And all of this?
Well, she could not bear it just...

... She wanted to live for him alone. Wake him up in the morning smell of coffee. To hold hassle-free Cup with a thick edge (this edge does not burn the lips) until he settles into the pillows to sit. To serve him, such a dear awake, this heavy Cup so that he could take her by the hand, otherwise hot. And ask every time: "Cream? Sugar?"...