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“But nothing could change the memory of love… I wondered, does falling in love go through the eyes, or through the heart? If somebody asked me after a while, when it was all over, “What are you carrying with you?” I would answer, “Her.” I didn’t want to have anything else. I didn’t need anything else. Afterwards they called me The Devil, the master of lies, the one who bought and sold souls, the one with countless faces. They were right. I was taking the soul, bringing out all that was hidden there, deep inside, or behind countless masks, tempting it to come out into the light, tricking it into sucking up and showing itself.” — Iliyan Kuzmanov
But nothing could change the memory of love…
I wondered, does falling in love go through the eyes, or through the heart? If somebody asked me after a while, when it was all over, “What are you carrying with you?” I would answer, “Her.” I didn’t want to have anything else. I didn’t need anything else. Afterwards they called me The Devil, the master of lies, the one who bought and sold souls, the one with countless faces. They were right. I was taking the soul, bringing out all that was hidden there, deep inside, or behind countless masks, tempting it to come out into the light, tricking it into sucking up and showing itself.