Only so

- Which form it has?

- Which one do you think?

- A wing.

- That's what you see?

- No, that's what I want to. A wing of a woman someone burned, but for his misfortune, the atrocious fire was still not enough to erase her. Probably nothing will be. It's the perfect image of our passion.

Upset, Ariadne held her lover tightly.

- Yes. Our passion is immortal.

  Ariadne kissed him and leant her head behind. There was no need for words anymore. And

to tell the truth, love is no longer sufficient to definite those breathtaking feelings.

They were lying holding each other in the painting room, totally tired. 

- Azhewo?

- What is it?

  Ariadne touched delicately the cold bracelet on her lover's wrist.

- Who give you this beautiful bracelet.

- My grand mama. A gift from her on my nineteen birthdays. An object for luck as said by the sealer whose Grandmother bought.