Character: Astrid

- You'll change your mind.
- I'll never marry you. You made a big mistake.
- It's true, I've never had any luck with women, why did everything suddenly change?
- I think you kidnapped the wrong woman.
- You're right, of course I was wrong. And yet, what if by mistake, by chance, by the will of the gods or fate, I made the right decision? What if you are destined to be here? What if you're supposed to be here?

All that can be namestate, it is possible to perform.

- Yes, trouble. Not sweet to you. You lost everything: your father, your tribe, your best friend.
- Thanks for clearing that up. Why didn't I kill that dragon when I found him in the woods. So it would be better for all.
- Yes, any of us did, but still why? But why?
- How did you... I chickened out, gave up the slack, I don't want to kill!

No don't kiss me while I'm alive!

For a hundred years I'm the first Viking who did not want to kill the dragon!
But seated upon it.

Love their murmuring was my lullaby, my chest. I put in there, beautiful lingerie, summer camp, new sandals, Christmas. Selflessly fingered gala dinners, private room, bike test lessons in the evenings. Another year like the previous one, and following him, the same serene, one after the other - as a bridge, and a thousand different differences, subtle and elusive, so familiar to the girls growing up without a father.

In the evening, in a long and gentle summer dusk, people came out of the apartments, walking dogs, drinking cocktails by the pool, legs dangling in the water. The moon appeared, crouching in the impossible blue of the horizon. <...> I wanted to permanently freeze this moment chime, the quiet lapping of the water, the clanking of dog chains, laughter coming from the pool, the rustle of the ink pen mother, the smell of eucalyptus, the peace and quiet. It would be good to close it all in the locket and hang it on the neck. It would be good in this perfect moment we were attacked by a millennial dream, like Sleeping beauty's castle.

His voice was thick and fragrant as cloves, and iridescent Nightingale, he took us to the spice Bazaar in the middle of the island of Celebes, we drifted with him on a raft in the Coral sea. We were like two cobras, reaching for reed flute.

Would have lived, as a planet, star swaying in the blue, floating in the sea, dancing by moonlight to flamenco Spanish guitar.

... and the clay in the hands of the Potter is happy.

Thickened with the evening blue, still retaining the shades of Indigo, like an unspoken hope.

... Her voice - low, deep, warmed by the sun, with a barely perceptible accent - monotone Swedish melody of a bygone generation. You hear it once, you would know the enchanting power of the voice.

- I told you, look here...
- A-ha-ha, old joke again? God, how funny... Go here...