When I was a child I used to be frightened of entering such an unapproachable place, for it seemed so imposing and somewhat dangerous, especially when music was being played. That old arched way oak door had been present is my worst nightmares. Inside the church, the exquisite frescoes reflect perfectly the unity between this earth and the unseen kingdom of angels in such a manner that one cannot say where one ends and the other begins. However, I would never get in there because I wanted to, not in a month of Sundays.
Of course John was a nice guy after all. I met him at the coffee store. I was sitting upon a four-legged rich brown stained table, and he was in the one next to me. He showed himself really real and edgy; yet he was complex to read. He looked at me curiously, like if there was something of me that captivated his mind. He slowly approached me and slowly started talking about the beauty of nature and life. The sweet despairing sadness in his eyes captivated me. A mysterious, brooding thick London accent accompanied his sweet look; I was immersed in his overbearing strangeness; but I still could not get her out of my mind. The memories and the laughs and the hugs and the kisses, everything was still there in my mind.
Everything had happened so fast, from one day to the other my life had been over. I became a disgrace for my family, my mother blind by the situation decided she would end up with whatever was happening between us. She is a devote woman who looks kind, friendly, generous and gentle but that’s actually not the case, she had made my life miserable, she is just one of those people one loves to hate. Her voice was grating and made my ears bleed. Her eyes were narrowed, rigid, cold, hard. Once more I was the enemy. Her states had no greyscale, only the polar extremes existed. I drew in a deep breath, the burning hard stare would last only as