Reseña del libro "British Marine Engineer (en Inglés)"
From first moment, when you started writing to me, my heart was open. When Isaw your picture, I knew this was the face that I wanted to love forever. I stillcan't believe you love me. I find it hard to believe that I am loved by someone Ilove because although some men did love me, the ones I loved failed toreciprocate my feelings. I had not been close to anyone last twelve years. I forgotabout the existence of love. I have learned to deal with my solitude; it is not asscary as people think. With no loved one by my side, there is no deception. Withno loving embrace, there is no pain of finding out those arms were aroundsomeone else. Solitude and lovelessness even suppresses tears, forcing them tohide in the darkest, deepest crevasses of the heart, which aches and weepstearlessly for the life that passes without the dream of love coming true. The loveI've been looking for remained on the pages of love stories, and I felt like askingthe authors where they saw the love they had written about so eloquently andextensively. And why was I felt out of it? Am I so different from other women?Indeed, solitude is not as horrifying as some people assume, but your heartgrieves when silence is your only companion, and all your desire is to look intosomeone's affection-filled eyes. You crave a tight embrace, the warmth ofsomeone's heart next to yours. Solitude is scare for novices, but when you drinkand breathe it year after year, the heart becomes immune to the affliction ofhappiness. You hide your feelings behind a smile, the proof that you haven't beenbroken, that you are stronger than you thought you were. You alone know howsolitude tears your heart apart, how your soul yearns for a lover. Solitude is child'splay compared to the instant when you learn about a loved one's deception.You are my only love, God himself sent you to me to forever rid me ofloneliness. You alone will be in my heart till my last breath.
