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“Look, Clara,” I say enthusiastically and raise my hand to show my lover the beautiful butterfly couple, but then I realize that she’s already noticed them. Sitting up, she nods to me with a smile. Her gaze follows them, just like mine, until they’ve finally disappeared out of sight, without rushing and without a destination. Now Clara turns to me, with a smile that lights up her deep, dark eyes. The most beautiful sight in the world, I think dreamily, gently plucking a thistle from her disheveled hair. “That’s certainly a good omen,” she says, lost in thought. “For what?” I ask, smiling. She winks at me. “For the future. For our life. For whatever you want.” — Jutta Swietlinski
Look, Clara,” I say enthusiastically and raise my hand to show my lover the beautiful butterfly couple, but then I realize that she’s already noticed them.
Sitting up, she nods to me with a smile. Her gaze follows them, just like mine, until they’ve finally disappeared out of sight, without rushing and without a destination.
Now Clara turns to me, with a smile that lights up her deep, dark eyes.
The most beautiful sight in the world, I think dreamily, gently plucking a thistle from her disheveled hair.
“That’s certainly a good omen,” she says, lost in thought.
“For what?” I ask, smiling.
She winks at me. “For the future. For our life. For whatever you want.