\"I can\'t handle words... when I hear them, when I read them, they\'re lies...\"
Maybe this is our last touch, maybe this is our last picture together, \'cause if the paper\'s crumpled up,
The water was silent. Its surface was as clear as a mirror. It urged you to sink in it, to discover all its secrets. At zenith the sky was blue-mauve, but in the North it became dark. The stars were
MI