Cioburi

Love is sometimes like a fragile glass - it cracks, it rings, but it still rises for a toast. No one remembers how this celebration began, but hands reach out to clink again so that the world can see: we are alive. Let the heart be long since shattered, but the palms are intact - and even with a sense of humour.

There is no sweetness here, only a tart aftertaste, as if there is slightly more wine than necessary, but less than one would like. Between a kiss and a quarrel, there is a pause as long as a breath. They say you can't, but who knows how to love by the rules? Sometimes the only way not to fall apart completely is to raise your glasses again above the ruins and clink them together. So that it rings - and hurts a little less.