“The most difficult thing after the memories is not to think about what her gaze was like in them, how he turned it out with his absolute love mixed with wild passion. Perhaps I still didn’t remember a damn thing, perhaps the Kurd ritual did not return all my memories, but I understood one thing - no one had ever looked at me like that. I understood, and then the knives pierced my flesh with even greater force and anger. Because of the realization that this is nothing more than a game on her part. But all this lasted for several hours and was consumed by black, viscous and viscous hatred every time she opened her eyes. All I had to do was see her lilac gaze, and it blew my mind. Because in it I saw one word, aggressively sparkling like a neon advertisement. Lie. Black flashes with poisonous red streaks of rage, they dig into the body, greedily thirsting to inflict pain.” From the person who posted it: we thank the boorish author.