It's funny how civilization triggers the need to exchange experiences, the desire to share thoughts, to maintain close bonds with other human beings. It's funny how few can be alone in the world, not speaking to anyone, not keeping in touch. It's funny that the saddest form of loneliness is drinking alone, looking at oneself in the mirror, or eating alone in front...

John liked cutting his chop into fine pieces and then spreading some sauce onto them, playfully mixing the pieces on the plate, and then combining one perfect bite: meat, some vegetables and a piece of potato. He would put the bite into his mouth and chew slowly, appreciating both the texture and flavor. His mother prepared such delicious meat casseroles, minced pies, tasty...

With Gemma gone, Melquiades found himself alone in the house. Alone and hungry. All of a sudden he had to cook for himself and for himself check whether he wasn't spending too much time with books. If there was one sensible guide on raising a country from the ruins he would have been glad, but there were many touching upon various aspects of...

Melquiades looked at Gemma with an inquisitive look.  'Where have you been?' he asked suspiciously, glimpsing at her over the open book. 'Outside,' she answered innocently, not looking at him in the eye. 'You're often outside these days. Have you got any friends? Maybe a boy?' 'A boy? Why do you think so?' 'I don't think about anything. You simply remind me of...

John liked it when his mother took off the frying meat from the pan and put it on his plate. He liked its smell and the sound of the fork and knife against the plate, even though for his mother it was annoying. She was a beautiful woman with a perfect figure, long, black, curly hair and a lovely smile. Her second husband...