| Author: | Irena Docheva | ISBN: | 9781466946958 |
| Publisher: | Trafford Publishing | Publication: | July 13, 2012 |
| Imprint: | Trafford Publishing | Language: | English |
| Author: | Irena Docheva |
| ISBN: | 9781466946958 |
| Publisher: | Trafford Publishing |
| Publication: | July 13, 2012 |
| Imprint: | Trafford Publishing |
| Language: | English |
This is an amazing story, which will leave in your soul the incredible sensation of the taste of love. It can transform your notions, sharpen your senses and draw you into the wonderful flagrance of the passionate, unbridled, magic love. It will stop your breath. You will fly, you will dream, you will pray to retain that sensation for a longer time. Love rushes into the world of the darkness. Stolen from the reality and carried away into the nullity. There are things that transform the sense of that great feeling. In this tale, the good and the evil are in an acute conflict, and they are ready to tear the boundary between life and death. The sensation of the loss and the triumphing of the victory are drowned in an ocean of tears. The truth is different, broken against a wall of temptations. It takes refuge in the icy hug of the time, and it melts down there, warmed by the rays of the wandering thought. That is just love, buried beneath roses . . . many roses . . . bloody roses . . . , and the sun is . . . everything.
This is an amazing story, which will leave in your soul the incredible sensation of the taste of love. It can transform your notions, sharpen your senses and draw you into the wonderful flagrance of the passionate, unbridled, magic love. It will stop your breath. You will fly, you will dream, you will pray to retain that sensation for a longer time. Love rushes into the world of the darkness. Stolen from the reality and carried away into the nullity. There are things that transform the sense of that great feeling. In this tale, the good and the evil are in an acute conflict, and they are ready to tear the boundary between life and death. The sensation of the loss and the triumphing of the victory are drowned in an ocean of tears. The truth is different, broken against a wall of temptations. It takes refuge in the icy hug of the time, and it melts down there, warmed by the rays of the wandering thought. That is just love, buried beneath roses . . . many roses . . . bloody roses . . . , and the sun is . . . everything.
