“I want your flesh to keep my memory, and your soul to forget me.”
Well, Angelo, crucify me! I said that because I did not believe at the time that flesh has any memory. Now, I do not know what to believe anymore!
Every night the wounded blue of his eyes haunts me. At the crack of dawn that splendid voice in which he used to talk to me tolls like morning church bells.
Are we going to haunt each other forever?
Are we going to meander in each others’ thoughts eternally?
Excerpts from the manuscript Glass Lovers.