In the Bowl

Mine life. I want to get married. Next year.
Than the mirror is, I can clearly see my self growing senile. My face has been destroyed with the traces of years, although I only just twenty-five years old. That the turbulent waves of fear, the fear of the kind of woman-specific, I think you will not understand.
I know that he is a desperate woman. And you're different, you have to pursue a happy boy. Those dark days of despair, in you, just a past experience, falling in the heart, quiet and no noise. Those intense feelings between us, but also the years pass you gradually indifferent.
I have to find someone to marry their own. Although I do not want to get married. But I'm afraid to grow old so silent. I hope someone with me.

II

Cloud. I know, into the circulation in the years, many things have changed. We no longer possible to return to the days of acquaintance and experience the kind of acquaintance mood.
I feel very helpless. But I do not want to hide his sadness at the moment.
Focused over a woman, telling myself she would marry, and always in the hearts of weird feeling.

C

Ray. In fact, all along, I often think of you. Sometimes, I will bring with the people around you.
Years in the fervent hope that a "happy" look. Those few words from thousands of miles away. That you give me the simple happiness. That feeling, I will always stay in my heart.
Lonely, I always put out these old feelings, a long time to finish. Caught in them. Feeling good.
I did not take the initiative to contact you, I fear destruction of this beautiful feeling. You know, I am a regular person aphasia. Sometimes I fear that I have nothing to say, but more profound hurt you.

IV

Cloud. I've been keeping you wrote me those E-mail.
I often read over and over again those who are already very old letter, miss the old times, looking back to our story.

V

Ray. I know, you're the kind of people are inside. Profound and restrained. In the "banyan tree" to read your "watch" the moment, I know. To know so well.
I read you those letters. Reading your writing with dry cold strokes like those deep sea of emotions. I think you are like most of me. I want to have a chance to interact with you. After long hesitation, I sent you a desire to contact the news. Then I began to upset the people up. I have never been so looking forward to my feelings of others charity.


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