He looked at me, lip quivering, tears running. I told him once that I thought people were their most beautiful when they cried - brimming and uncontained. Maybe he hoped with hope that I would think so now. I wasn't moved. It didn't occur to me until later to even pay notice. I gripped his face to get a good look. I don't know what I had
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Peut-être Wilde était erroné. L'amour a vraiment une saveur salée... :-(
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