I have written too much about lives - I feel I have lived for too long.

I envied these women I saw before me, their beauty still intact. Life has its revenge of life. Untimely death is the secret of eternal youth.

Out on the street I start to run; I need to breathe in this life, the trees, the warmth of my town. I will be able to control my own fate and I will know how to be happy. Happiness is something you lay siege to, it is a battle . . .

would you dare to love me?

I would like to be a philosopher in ancient Athens and a poet in ancient China.

Years have passed and how I am anxiously watching the twilight of my childhood, quietly sinking, never to rise again.

Tomorrow we will be nothing but earth and dust. Who will remember the love a soldier once knew?