Kurşun arama

Love is sometimes like a burn that even time cannot heal. Outwardly, everything seems to have cooled down, but inside, the embers are still smouldering, and if you touch them, they flare up again. Words are like arrows, and a glance is like a sign that won't let you go. It seems that you have forgotten, erased, lived through it, but the opposite is true - memory multiplies, it does not erase.

Somewhere between night and day, feelings get confused, as if time itself has lost its way. All that remains is a conversation with silence - the faithful companion of those who once burned themselves too badly. And yet there is a strange warmth in these ashes: even pain sings so beautifully when it sings of the present.