Fac parte din mine…au devenit obsesii, apoi le-am inghitit si am reusit sa le amestec printre culorile din interior.

Daca as ciupi iubirea de nas, as trezi-o oare?

Pictand pistrui pe chipuri acum alb-negru, in albume.

Ce am invatat despre iubire atunci cand eram copil? Am invatat sa o urmaresc. Piezis. Pe sub genele negre. Am invatat sa o maschez, sa scriu despre ea. S-o simt. S-o simt un pic mai mult decat trebuie. S-o dramatizez, s-o transform intr-o carte.

Am scris. Am scris continuarea unei carti al carei final m-a ravasit prea mult. Apoi am ascuns caietele.

Am invatat sa nu privesc in ochi iubirea, ci sa caut umbrelute japoneze care sa-mi acopere chipul.

Asta pana am scris din nou.

Finn: What’s it like not to feel anything?
Estella: Let’s say there was a little girl, and from the time she could understand, she was taught to fear… let’s say she was taught to fear daylight. She was taught that it was her enemy, that it would hurt her. And then one sunny day, you ask her to go outside and play and she won’t. You can’t be angry at her can you?
Finn: I knew that little girl and I saw the light in her eyes, and no matter what you say or do, that’s still what I see.
Estella: We are who we are. People don’t change.

Finn: if this isn’t love, I don’t think I can handle the real thing