You know, Will, there are five years behind us and it’s quite a long time. People change day by day, thus in 1826 days some kind of metamorphosis have been occured with everybody. On you too, on me too. Now, you are standing in front of me with your Mickey Mouse smile with the excuse that you didn’t have time for me so far. After five years, now I’m standing in front of you summoning all of my courage and say: that’s a quite weak excuse. You’re not that scrubby 18-year-old yet and I’m not that silly 16. I grew up, I think, without you. You were away and you came to me once in a bluemoon with your usual questions without any sense. And you are totally wrong if you thought that I’ll waiting for you til the end of time.
Forgive me, if I dissapoint you. I have already forgiven for the disappointments you caused me.
(photo source: http://www.inc.com)
Damn it! Who thought that such a difficult thing is creating!
(photo source: google.com – my own edited version)
On the way home from work, three frogs were jumping next to me, or if it sounds better they accompained me as far as. Whether I missed the chance again to kiss one of them to change into a gallant prince? I don’t really know that which is worse: for me, that I don’t have a prince now, or for them that one of us would be a human again?
Well, this was the daily fable from the real world.
“So, Lizzy,” said he [Mr. Bennet] one day, “your sister is crossed in love I find. I congratulate her. Next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed in love a little now and then. It is something to think of, and gives her a sort of distinction among her companions. When is your turn to come? You will hardly bear to be long outdone by Jane. Now is your time. Here are officers enough at Meryton to disappoint all the young ladies in the country. Let Wickham be your man. He is a pleasant fellow, and would jilt you creditably.”
–Jane Austen, PRIDE AND PREJUDICE, Chapter 1, Vol. II.
You and me
No one exist
The time stopped
Who can understand
You and me
“I always had the deepest affection for people who carried sublime tears in their silences.”
— Virginia Woolf, The Diary Of Virginia Woolf Volume III