Character: Robert Lokamp. Page 2

But what a bloody horror! Millions of people healthy! Why is it sick?

I thought I could bring her flowers. It was easy: the city garden for Luna Park was in full bloom. Leaping through the bars, I began to pick off the bushes of white lilac.
What are you doing here? - there was a suddenly loud voice. I raised my eyes. Before me stood a man with the face of Burgundian and swirling gray mustache. He looked at me with indignation. Not a COP, not a guard, but, apparently, the old retiree.
- It's easy to install, politely I replied, ' here I break off branches of lilac.
For a moment retired military was speechless.
- Did you know that this is a city Park? angrily he asked.
I laughed:
- Of course, well known; or, according to you, I took this place for the Canary Islands?
He turned blue. I was afraid he had a stroke.
- Now get out of here! - he shouted-class barracks bass. - You are stealing city property! I will have you detained!
Meanwhile, I managed to gain enough of lilacs.
- But first I need to catch. Come on, catch up, grandpa! - I suggested to the old man, jumped through the bars and disappeared.

- Tell me, Robbie, ' asked Pat, after a while, - what kind of flowers are there at the Creek?
- Anemones, - I answered without looking.
- Well, what do you say, dear! It is not anemones. Anemones are much smaller; in addition, they bloom only in the spring.
"Right," I said. Is Cardamine.
She shook her head.
I know Cardamine. They have quite a different view.
- Then it is a Hemlock.
- What are you, Robbie! Hemlock and white, not red.
- I don't know. So far I have done these three names when I asked. One of them always believed.

Audacity is the best tool in the fight against the law.

I hate people, slowly sticking her hand like a dead fish.

I appreciate the irony, but not one that is directed against me.

From the parting to the tip of the nose, I was the storm, and from nose to chin is a peaceful landscape under the spring sun.

Prostitutes - the most severe, but also the most sentimental creation.

- Gorgeous girl, isn't it? he asked.
- I don't know, Gottfried, ' I replied. - Not particularly to her eye.
For some time he stared at me with his blue eyes and then shook her red head:
- What do you do, tell me, baby?
- That's what I'd like to know myself, - I answered. He laughed and said:
- Look what wanted. Easily this knowledge is not given.

I was tired and knew that to sleep. Passed the "International" thinking about Lisa, about the years gone by, many other things long since forgotten. All departed in the distant past and as if no longer concerned me. Then I went to the street where Pat lived. The wind increased, all the Windows in her house were dark, the morning crept on the grey legs along the doors. Finally, I came home. "Oh my God, I thought,' I think I'm happy."

In his hand was a letter. He looked like a man just got shot, but he still doesn't believe it and feels no pain, he felt far only push.

Submission. She was cheating? Fight, fight - that's the only thing that remained in the landfill, which eventually somehow be vanquished. To fight for what little you hold dear. And to obey you in seventy years.

If you were a real normal woman that I could love you.

- You don't forgive! I have long forgotten about it.
- And I'm not. I don't forget so easily.
- You should be...