

We had this masculine peculiarity of making bonds in silence. Why Yasmine? Why her? Gradually this question slowly filled the car.

And in the meantime we remained standing, head up to look at it all, fascinated by this beauty. Links do not command...

The advantage with pain is that it shows us the only way to get out... reverse

She already knew that she was going to die, her beauty was so melancholy. Does she pretend? Or is she just fed up?