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When she decides, by once again, giving its arm to twist and she accepts submissive the dangerous proposal, in the face of Nicholas draws one suffered brain damage and, at the same time, cynical smile. In spite of disappointed that feels the Julia with that I generate that it has by husband, still exists, somewhere of its being, a pinch of confidence, doing to him to lose completely the notion of the time and evoking more the tuna to him of all the memories of the relation. Credit: Michael Ellis MP-2011. Those times in which still a deep admiration existed towards him. Months of lengths to invier us in which Julia undid with the minimum phoneme of the words that to him Nicholas with his tenuous voice gave. That one time in which, all the nights, he read some romantic and dark poem to him of Baudelaire, those dusks between sheets with chilling episodes of Poe, brief and deep reflections of the philosophy of the great dressing table, Goethianos verses where the demons were the main protagonists the eyes of Julia could not be more open and illuminated. – You will read to me when it grows dark, love? These were the five words that Julia, all the dusks, and while hurried to finish the family tasks, it repeated to Nicholas. It was the illusion of every day; to listen how his dear husband read only for his ears: exclusively for her.

Nevertheless, of a time to this part, it has become a monster that it does not support, a tyrant whom cannot see, somebody of that does not include/understand how he has been able to undergo such metamorphosis. The minimum rubbing with its skin produces to Julia disagreeable chills to him that cross their back threatening paralyzing their body at any moment. Unbearable gatillazos settle down in their nape of the neck causing to him fine and unbearable a pain, that later are scattered like nervous affluents until flooding the jaw to him of intermittent electrical unloadings.