The Subject

I had fear of being insufficient, and when the hour arrived to consummate the love, he did not obtain to give account of the message. Distrusts of adolescent, of which much mature man never becomes free itself. I know there. The head of people has of these things. Fancies of more, certezas of less. The times that I imagined myself in the penumbra of the garden of the house of it, under of the window, reciting poetries had not been few and unweaving a rosary of phrases of love, while it suspirava and suspirava, with the lost eyes in the dotted night of stars, as Cirano made with its loved Roxane. Cirano also made as I.

As he was ugly excessively, it wrote the dialogues and it ordered a friend to recite them in low of the window of its muse. It only could give in what it gave and I, if I at that time had knowledge of the history of it, with certainty would have acted of another form. It is in these hours that the Effect enters in consideration Butterfly. Good, as already he said, I had a friend that also Joo called itself. It worked in the assembly line, well next to it. I never confessed for it the desperate passion that I felt for its fellow worker. In the truth, I had shame to comment on the subject and perhaps it also at least distrusted of this. I do not know well what it was, but the fact is that it never came me to baila to speak of this with it until the day where I took courage and I passed it the poem so that it delivered it to it.

It found favour, laughed, scoffed of me, but without offending. Finally, he agreed gentily to delivering the poem for the girl. I was waiting to see in what it gave.