Together with Prokofiev in the moonlight scene, always immersed in a nightmare into a dream or conscious being. My ears have also been echoed those five words: love autism. I almost was not sure the words would fall on my head, it is like a glittering of the stars, you think it would have been hung in the sky could be so careless that it is falling straight, I'm the guy the world's lucky, things suddenly fall from the sky to drop on my head. Carrying five heavy, brilliant characters, walking alone too long, too far from the road, so tired sometimes unbearable, sometimes into a person's fantasy, my fantasy life since then dominated all go on to extend Road.
At that time, my colleagues great 提琴普罗科菲 Nazarbayev in the moonlight over, are constantly reminded and requirements issued by, let me into sad and flawless. I do not know how to face. That moonlight night, almost the same time we Pieces stop. Next, I feel shortness of breath, opened the window to stand up and breathe, a huge surge of vertigo to my eyes suddenly dark. Prokofiev hold me to that moment, my mind is blank ... ...
At that moment, I thought I was dead. Can still suddenly awake, in the subconscious, a monster you want to invade my all. I was so transparent, no matter where a dark night, I could clearly see through their own distinct manner all the internal and external, including those of blood flow to, or security lonely, or boiling surging voice, I still remember it. A devil wants to invade it all, this is the first sense, the second is hate, not hate Prokofiev, dizziness and even hate their own helplessness. No one knows how the strength, I grabbed a thick clip overwhelming lesson plans hit the back and chest Prokofiev, but he did so either I play, I were to cry, until I played tired, too soft body the.
At that time, I suddenly uttered a sound safety and lonely to the bone, I said: I'm sorry ... ... Prokofiev hugged me, motionless. He was very comforting, I no longer resist, resistance is no longer accepted his love, this is the beginning of the victory, has a beginning, there is the process, a process, there is everything. So he relieved. He looked at my eyes had never been seen pure water, almost no signs of being burned in hot. His breathing became steady up. I think love is such a feeling about it, dizziness, and breathing hot and messy.
So a moment, I even felt a happiness, and many women also have the same love, before that, some people criticized me, saying that I love with autism and I am not convinced, thinking one day I will find love. Now, I have found. Later, after again after what love is I will break.
Prokofiev is in the summer sunshine and happiness, he seems to have forgotten that all the roots of life's troubles, experienced no relief in the fact that after the resurrection of life, he is happy. I can almost verify their own happiness. Sometimes, listening to 普罗科菲耶 Fraser piano, I will be unable to control impulses, and tears, but what hard cover. I know, that moment, doomed to think of something, I will feel in the face of some sorry Prokofiev substance. I would like, before her marriage to him again to some, might be able to break through all the conflict.
Leading to a large class of tree-lined street music, the summer breeze blowing constantly, over there, blown heart warm, dry summer, I imagine that the red soup in walking because of the feeling of love is also the arrival of a number of the corresponding mitigation . In the distance, coming toward me is the young Prokofiev, his every step toward me around, I feel happy in the near, I have no doubt that summer have proved their love. I just do not say, and then up and continue to issue his crisp shadow of irony, I asked: "What is carry on your shoulders?" I must think on his shoulders carry the pieces of art and irrelevant things. In fact, he was carrying a cello bigger way, to walk in the wind, when, like the ancient swordsman chic look.
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