terça-feira, 1 de junho de 2010

More than a thousand miles separated them, an entire ocean, two different continents. He didn't know her, but she knew him. She read every line he wrote, saw every picture he took and sang to each one of his melodies.
She had no delusions of grandeur, never wanted to be more than a shadow, for that was enough. She would happily live for him, away from him, as long as she had his light to guide her.
And a light he was. He shone so brightly it almost hurt. Everything about him came alight when he was singing, talking, laughing. And that light guided her through her toughest years and danced around her in her happiest ones.
But what she didn't know was that it was a trade. He didn't know what it was, but he felt a warmth inside his heart that kept him going and smiling, a warmth for which he was deeply thankful. He didn't know that that flame which burned in his heart was the fire of her own.

This history has no title or end.

Nenhum comentário: