He who is chasing me with his eyes all the time is sitting just over there feeling the same probably as I do about the one.

I hear his voice and there is a big sorrow in my heart that makes my eyes wet.

No single day has passed without thinking about him and wishing to see him.

How is it possible that I pick his voice among so many people talking and shouting in so many different languages.

It is so cold here.

Life is strange and so is love...