Her—yes, her. She is... in every minute of my life, in my thoughts, in my work... just around the corner... in every glance... she has her place. She... yes, she is my love... She is in my house, in my bed... in the food on my plate, in the ink of my pen... and when I gaze at the horizon, she... is my sunset. She... yes, she is my love... If I look at the sun, she is in its glow... and by my side as I walk... in the music on my player, and she holds me back if I’m... going too fast. She... yes, she is my love... It is because of her that I gave my weeping a rest; she is the rain on my windowpane... the reflection in my bedroom mirror, and the thread... that stitches the wounds I inflict on myself. She... yes, she is my love... Yes, she is... my cherished dream, the one who tends to my spirits, the one who crafts my dreams... and my fear of being wrong. She... yes, she is my love... And she... is the reason for my smile, the favorite actress in my theater, the one who brings my heart to life... this heart that dwells behind... a white sweater. She... yes, she is my love... I don't know if that’s clear enough!? Her—yes, her... She... always her...
