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... she did not smoke but drinks coffee, drinking sleeping-pills, in the evening ...
... she likes chocolate and white roses ...
... she sits in a cafe and looking into the fate of everyone...
... she no longer dreams ...
but still believes that all ahead ....
... it goes to the street, and so does not want to go home ...
...she no longer sees vanilla sky, which is so strongly
maneuvering and called her once ... just sky ...
... she no longer flies ...
...it no longer falls into neither of whom ... only themselves ...
... it is dark glasses in winter and beautiful black eyes ...
...she sleeps, when the city faced ...
... it draws on the veins His characters ... His thoughts ... His dream ...
...so she wants to believe Him ... but I can not ...
... she nails painted red and kill the pain Martini ...
... she laughs and dances ...not noticing anyone ...
... it is a flower on the hand and writes lines ...
... she listens to sad songs and looking for them ourselves ...
... it closes its eyes and sees the Brooklyn Bridge ....
... it looks grey in their eyes and sees eternity ...

... is good ..... she just loved to inflict pain .....