Love is like a dream. And dream that love alive, that I eat only air. And dream of the world surrendered to my feet. I have not seen the face of that I love, and my mind can not imagine what the heart dictates drunk. For when the heart speaks, when the heart dictates, the whole mind is traversed wound by an overwhelming force that prevents them from conceiving any notion, any image, which paralyzes the embargo, and I can not see his face veiled.
The human spirit can venture to love in a vacuum, in love only with words. Yes, words that fascinate, to charm, that charm. Words of an invisible, unknown. Of someone who could be everything that could be anything.
The wind knows the answer.
Gastañeta By Sofia Tudela.
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