It has depth and reflects the subtle but significant transformations that we observe in everyday life.

Why are some men truly loved?

Why are some men truly deserved?

And while in the secrets of the woman's soul there are moments of crisis, a restrained, unstoppable struggle is going on.

Today while shopping I met a Muslim saleswoman, with an overwhelming beauty like a goddess and a fragility in her eyes and the appearance of a child. She works 7 days a week, 12 hours in the store next to the man who from time to time took out a cigarette outside the store and flirted with the women who had finished their small purchases.

The smell was so pleasant that I whisper and call myself a dreamer. Now I also have to start learning to smoke! Are they expensive?

Eh, family business, the man answers me. I understood "current". A good day is of great value to everyone, each with their own business. On the way back I concentrate on putting it into verse, a program like the beginning of the week, Monday, when the stores receive goods...

*A silent story, about a face like a flower, In the light in the window it shines brightly. Working restlessly, with dreamy eyes, A kept secret, a forbidden longing.

Beside her, the smoke disperses gently, The man watches, but without trembling. Life is a business, a bitter routine, where love remains outside.

But a "good day" in the stressful world, It is the treasure that makes a day quieter. It is the whisper that invests that there is still A ray of soul, a moment resists.

Perhaps one day, with the decline of dawn, Her rare story will be listened to. Or perhaps in the eyes that seem childish, A world is born that has no subtle pattern.