A woman, a fragile flower, hardened into steel by being ...

Here again came the day when men love us, cherish and cherish ... more than on other days of the year. ))
And I'm not going to give you presents today-everything will be from men!
Chanting us, painting about us, flowers for us and a song about love for us.
The song really made me laugh - for so long a poor Frenchman listed how many women he loves, that by the end of the song, it's gone. Do you see how hard we get to men? )))
Let them love you, girls!



On her narrow shoulders sunset lay the sky.
Sleepily purred, stretched ...
And fell asleep on those shoulders, smelling of bitter almonds.
Do not wake him, look into her eyes, which reflects the beginning of time and the fall of empires, the tenderness of mothers and primitive fire.
Woman ... Arched with a glance towards something invisible to us, stretched out by the alarming smell of love on our hands.
A woman, a fragile flower, steel-hardened by being, with such a vulnerable soul, but capable of sparking stars.




I am grateful to God, heaven, someone, anyway, for this holy opportunity: to look at you, breathe you in, feel you, hear you, touch you, smiling at your shivering response, fiercely able to love hearts. My god and devil, my hell and heaven - in your eyes.
My soul and body, my life and death are in your hands.
And we are blind, fools, sharpen the corners of the world to sharpness, play with the granite of the mind, speed up the step, throwing indifferent words into the changing garden of her soul.
We tear the flowers of her gifts and see how another sun goes out.
But in any darkness in which we dress her, she remains - beautiful.




Daniel Gerhartz paintings for sale

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