It could still be a different story. A crazy story. An amazing story of nothing. The biggest book of the century. The story of a couple. Two people who love each other. Who really love each other. Deeply. You tell me that nobody can know if someone really likes or not. At best, it can realize, in retrospect, that what he took for love was not. But this can take place afterwards. Once the story ended. So it's easy after. One has the impression that it was obvious. But while we are together is another matter. It's like when one says something to someone and it punctuates the demonstration by you see. And the other nods each. So we said of course he sees. And even the other, he who hears the explanation, he said he has seen, since he believes something and see that it has absolutely no way of knowing if what he sees matches what the other wants to see him. We can know that is wrong only after they realized that it was wrong, but never while it is being deceived. This is the trap. But this couple in this case, really loves. From a sincere love. In addition, they speak the same language. I mean, they understand. They are just different enough and similar enough to share for many years. And they have the same worldview. Important things. Those not to be missed. Those against whom to fight. In short, there is something beautiful and long to be built between those two. Perhaps the story of a lifetime. So they are a long way together. They share the daily. Small joys. Small sentences. All the bazaar. And then one day the girl has something. And the guy says simply: Not . And the girl said Ah, yet it would be nice . And the guy responds: Yes I know it would be nice, but I do not feel capable of doing. The girl sees that she has touched a nerve, so despite the fact that this thing really takes it to heart, she will not insist. She replied: Too bad. It's a shame. And : Too bad. It is unfortunate enough to erode the fortress of their hearts. The type is said that he would never have so loved to make her say: Too bad . It's a shame. And it starts to eat away like salt in the eyes. is the first crack. Minuscule. Invisible. Tragic. Definitely. That's the story.
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