Author of quotes: Victoria Platov

Men never marry faithful women.

- I hate you.
- A happy coincidence of our senses. Can even now married.

I'm aimlessly wandering around the deserted corridors of the sterile his memory, hoping to encounter at least something: no debris where you can dig and something to fish for themselves; no crumpled sheets, no memories.

Her lips.
They lazily glide over the surface of my own lips, and without thinking to dive deeper, no diving certificate here and does not smell, about the smell in General speech is not conducted. Her lips - not salty and not sweet, in them there is no sharpness, no bitterness, with the same success it would be possible to kiss with a plastic Cup. This is definitely the weirdest kiss of my life, the very fact of its existence senseless, there is no hint of a brighter future, to walk under the rain, crumpled sheets and coffee in the morning, to buy a mountain bike, a digger and a visit to religious shrines in the Middle East. There was no hint of revelations about former lovers, child and youth phobias, "I want you so, lift is the most appropriate place, but do not forget about the rubber bands" - not the case. Not that kiss.
Is not the same. And still, still...
I shudder to think about what he's going to end someday.

- I do not shoot girls from the world of fashion. I'm not interested. My specialty is small animals who died a violent death.
- Small animals?..
- Ground squirrels, marmots, rats, which have come under the cutting knife, the cat who came under paver... - me carries. - The death of birds in the high-voltage transmission lines - generally a separate photo op...
- And then what?
- And what then?
- Then what are you doing with the images?
Give pretty girls on Valentine's Day.

Supersingular on the tonsils, cropped under zero feminists, all representatives of creative professions - from the assistant editor to verstality in the printing. Their fillings are full of healthy creativity, pockets of their pants (military-inspired) swell from ambitions. Within the scope of their interests include cunnilingus, Fisting and arm wrestling, "walking barefoot, kissing your collarbone and below", the Championships of dressage in Holland, the Championships eating locusts in Uganda; they love the club chill-outs and hate the verb "to lick" "because it is called differently". All his little thoughts about life, sex and petty bickering in the Assembly and what they bring to the page Internet "Live journal".

Our ceramic hearts, suitable only for extinguishing cigarettes with a mouthpiece and without, ceramic our hearts are broken. Not to be confused fragments.

Wild rose, wild rose is what like her lips! You can't - and a couple scratches you provided. Or worse - deep cut.

And her lips - shells, rose petals, skorpioni tails, the word "Yes" never flew with these lips, but "no"... "No" shoved in his cheek like a long lasting candy. She's sucking ever since, as leading to her stairs began to appear pathetic types like me.

Girls like this, the satellites are not needed at all, whoever was next to them - Batman, Robin or lizard from the Comoros, he is always the defocus, the light spot on the slice of the frame, not more. Girls like this - large docks on the part of pulling the blanket over himself, no matter what it is the blanket woven from personal ambitions, career aspirations or the children's desire to ride the hare in the subway.

How to categorize her lips, where they pinned? Take them to the sinks? the rose petals? to scorpionic tail? to the snakes, entangled in each other?...

- ...So, are you dumb?
- Your. Solely your.

Genius and God is not so much of a difference. The first is simply a lack of time to properly wash your hair, and the second... the Second fills them with sand, fish scales, fragments of shells and makes the subject of worship.

I'm too inconsistent in order to move, I too shied away from side to side.