recently had been sincere. He spoke as he liked, because he did not remember that at times I hated her for having forgotten, he said, with some honesty and a zeal that was okay to be happy without him. She recovered, he said that now could be friends in peace, that nothing remained but a good love, those healthy and happy memories for years shared. He avoided her, but then smiled desire to see her again. She sure, I said she did not care. No more and no less, no damage. He said with an air of nostalgia, what we were kids and she completed the sentence with which innocent. He said no, they were much more than the others, who knew all, they loved deeper and more honest, they were happy. She said innocent. Innocent. We knew nothing. He thinks not. He complains. He said it was not that, they were only children, but the good, the worth. She laughs, sitting in a chair, and says he believes they were kids dreaming. Always innocent. And so they took between innocence and youth and end up talking to a chao, you are fine, without reaching agreement or consensus, as always. So different, as always.
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