Читать книгу The boy with the sad eyes - Sam Chevalier - Страница 14

On certain occasions we return to where we were happy once, regardless of the fact that it is the same place we were broken into a thousand pieces and where we suffered the most silent voids of our soul. We usually think that trying again is a sign that things can improve, but one once we break, nothing is the same again, and a black hole remains, a memory that kills us, a stray bullet that hits the heart directly. And although the wound has healed and we survive in spite of ourselves, the scar prevails, the war marks remain for life.