luni, 7 mai 2012

There's nothing like the vice of sweet love to kill longings and loneliness with tender kisses at the edge of a river, between sips of champagne or rum, with words whispered in one's ear perhaps in Italian, or maybe Portuguese, nearly always in baby talk. 
"They were sincere words, don't think that we let out 'I love you' if we didn't intend for it to mean something. For every man there was a pretty phrase, 'handsome daddy', 'my little piece of caramel', 'light of my eyes', and other flattering words like that. But 'i love you' was only used for the enamorado that each woman had, the one for whom her heart remained faithful."

There were some real ladies, all so very elegant and pious. One didn't go around brusquely or soil her mouth with foul words, or display poor manners as occurred later, two women fighting over a man and things of the sort. None of that. Vulgarity had no place among us.

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