She tried to seem unreachable, but the wall of her impregnability was built of bricks in the form of her weaknesses.

They say that woman is an invitation to happiness; this one is more like Heaven’s rejection. She’s like a treasure: drives you crazy and forces to spend your life searching for her. She never hides her madness. She is the madness at first sight. Age isn’t just kind to her, it’s afraid of her. She is the queen of my dreams and the queen of my sins; my best enemy and my worst friend; my finite paradise and my eternal rock 'n' roll hell… There is nothing more melancholy than my past; nothing more exciting than our present; nothing more mysterious than her future.

She smells like passion; like irresistible desire and temptation. She’s eclipsing in a daytime and shining at night. She smells like nakedness, even when she is warmly dressed. She has wild eyes. She smells like seduction; she is both an apple and a snake. She smells like great expectations; like success; like centuries-old glory. She’s like the last refuge. She smells like a final wish. She smells like a new beginning.

I’ve always liked women with some sadness in their eyes; with some blush on their cheeks; with some innocence in their hearts; with some desire on their lips; with some sins in their past.

She tastes like chocolate. She tastes like an apple from that garden. She tastes like cocaine; like pure pleasure. She tastes like gold; like a piece of bread in the time of famine; like one last smoke. She tastes like hope; like dreams become reality; like reality becomes a fairy tale; like a fairy tale becomes the main purpose of life. She tastes like fears that become achievements; like dangers that make life more exciting. She tastes like love. She tastes like hate. She tastes like madness.