Character: Gero

She love and could not imagine
So in love with himself.

Cupid may well hurt your arrow through the ear.

When rosy day goes away,
And, dark as a shadow, and night comes,
Cool, fortunately, surrounds us,
And there, in the heart of sweet heat...
Make a noise like branches of honeysuckle day
Words of wishes, from which it
We do not leave the mind no trace,
After all, the sun, stars do not mind never.
But sorry for whatever passion slighted,
Who heard a reproach,
Who didn't pale and weak from love
The man was between people...

When we have something slipped my mind, when we forget, then remember it's so hard forgotten that the void which expanded at the expense of our memory, violates the true size of and the ratio behind the veil of our forgetfulness it changes, grows and coarsens. And when we finally manage to remember the forgotten and thrown out of my head, we disappointedly convinced that it was not worth the labor we spent on the recall.

I feel like a medium. I'm always late, always come after Tuesday.