"I can't remember what it was to be warm. It seems a thousand years since I was a small boy in the sun. How did I come to this high, desolate place where there is nothing but loneliness? So much is lost. I want to look into your eyes and forget. It all seems so far away: a warm house where my shadow never falls; your long, black hair in my hands. There is no more revolution, only you to come back."
-Colonel Ernesto Bella
No comments:
Post a Comment