Love is also a violence, and cannot be undone.
When small drops began to fall and darken the world in penny-shaped circles, no one around him scurried for cover. For lonely people, rain is a chance to be touched.
Hands have their own language.
The present grows within the boundaries of the past.
I wanted to explain that trusting is harder than being trusted.
Even if you have loved only once in your life, you're ruined.