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— Do you wanna know why I use a knife? Guns are too quick. You can't savor all the little emotions. You see, in their last moments people show you who they really are. So in a way, I knew your friends better than you ever did. Would you like to know which of them were cowards?

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"A Tori Amos Haunting"

DEADSTORY — Sat, 14 Apr 2012 14:27:46 +0300

That moment when you are haunted by a Tori Amos song and you can’t stop thinking about it until you go listen to it.

Like someone whispering in your ear and putting you under a spell. “listen to me…”

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"Amelie Poulain"

DEADSTORY — Sat, 14 Apr 2012 14:23:49 +0300

But she has her own little joy to run his hand into the bag with beans. . to break the sugar crust teaspoon… and let the pancakes on the water the Canal Saint-Martin.

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"Amelie Poulain"

DEADSTORY — Sat, 14 Apr 2012 14:16:16 +0300

— A girl with a glass of water, it may be, think about one person…
- This is a boatman?
- No, she met him not in the picture. It seems that they are similar.
- In other words, it is easier to think up a friendship with someone who is not, than to build relationships with others?
- No.
- Or maybe she just does, that is dealing with other people's problems? And with her own problems who will understand?
- Everything is better to take care of others than for dwarfs.

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"Sleepy Hollow"

DEADSTORY — Sat, 14 Apr 2012 13:48:24 +0300

— I was 7 years old when I lost my faith in God.
- What do you believe?
- The common sense and reason in the cause and effect.

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DEADSTORY: Личное – заметка в блоге #32603236

DEADSTORY — Sat, 14 Apr 2012 13:36:33 +0300

Accueil vers les étoiles et le ciel ci-dessous
Terre à proximité de lui dans un état second.
Dans un grand et heureux à Paris
Le désir secret même.

Boulevards bruyants le soir,
Le dernier rayon du soleil couchant fané,
Partout, partout dans le monde tous les couples, couples,
Tremblante lèvres et les yeux insolents.

Je suis seul ici. Par le tronc d'un châtaignier
Snuggle tête si doux!
Et dans mon cœur pleure verset Rostand
Comme là-bas, à gauche de Moscou.

Paris la nuit, mon étrange et misérable,
Plus cher que le non-sens vieux cœur!
Je rentre à la maison, il ya la tristesse, de la violette
Et portrait de quelqu'un d'appel d'offres.

Il ya quelqu'un d'autre les yeux tristes et fraternelle.
Il existe un profil délicat sur le mur.
Reichstadt Rostand et martyr
Et Sarah - viennent tous dans un rêve!

Dans un grand et heureux à Paris
Je rêve d'herbe, nuages,
Et puis le rire, et les ombres plus étroits
Et la douleur est profonde comme avant.

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DEADSTORY: Личное – заметка в блоге #32600474

DEADSTORY — Sat, 14 Apr 2012 13:03:46 +0300

Ivy: It was strange to suddenly see your face everywhere.
V: «Do not disclose who I am and help me change my clothes so that was the way. "
Ivy: "Twelfth Night. "
V: Viola.
Ivy: I do not understand.
V: What?
Ivy: How can you be one of the most important things in my life and I still do not know anything about you. I do not know where you were born, who were your parents did you have brothers or sisters. I do not know what you look like.
V: Ivy, I beg you. Behind this mask is a face, but it's not me. I am no more a person than I am - the muscles beneath it or the bones beneath.
Ivy: I understand.
V: Thank you.

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