Outside the seasons passed: sun, snow, spring green, October storms . . . was this a vision of my future? When would the shunning hero come, to set the clock if my life in motion again? Would he come some morning, or in the night? In April or December? This year? Next year? I shuddered. No, I wouldn't just sit and wait. I wanted to go out.
Maybe there were new men out there, better men, men who'd just been waiting for me. Somewhere someone is always waiting for someone.
Stichwörter: waiting
It's always hard when you've known a person a long time and then you have to recognise that you have nothing left in common but your memories.
Eva HellerStichwörter: old-friends shared-memories
There's no point in clinging to illusions.
Eva HellerStichwörter: illusions
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