Fernanda, on the other hand, looked for it in vain along the paths of her everyday itinerary without knowing that the search for lost things is hindered by routine habits and that is why it is so difficult to find them.

his mysterious resources had awakened in her a curiosity that was difficult to resist, but she had never imagined that curiosity was one of the many masks of love.

Wherever they might be they always remember that the past was a lie, that memory has no return, that every spring gone by could never be recovered, and that the wildest and most tenacious love was an ephemeral truth in the end.

Nothing resembles a person as much as the way he dies.

Once again she shuddered with the evidence that time was not passing, as she had just admitted, but that it was turning in a circle.

One could be happy not only without love, but despite it.

He pleaded so much that he lost his voice. His bones began to fill with words.