He stole roses from the police garden with two policemen yelling at him and a dog running after him, while jumping a wire fence, just because he thought the rose was too cute to be there and it belong to me, on my pillow.

He fought off cuts and bruises, nettles and bushes, thorns and stings, insects and rodents to collect and give me this huge, perfect, multicolored and somewhat poisonous bouquet of wild flowers. I threw it in the back seat of the car, because I was pissed at him for … I don’t remember what for. Continuă să citești →