Dale raised his glass. “Mr. Bashara.”
Dad gave him a cold stare. “Dale.”
“I forget,” said Dale, “do you hate me because I’m gay or because I’m Jewish?”
“I hate you because you broke my daughter’s heart.”
“Fair.” Dale polished off his beer.
Dad sat next to me.
“So a Muslim walks into a bar…” I said.
He didn’t laugh.
Alan Walker/Diamond Heart
I wish that I did not know Where all broken lovers
Where all broken lovers go
I wish that my heart was made of stone
Yeah, if I was bulletproof
I’d love you black and blue
If I was solid like a jewel
Keşke bilmeseydim,
Tüm kırılmış aşıkların gittiği yeri
Keşke kalbim taştan yapılsaydı
Evet, kurşun geçirmez olsaydım
Seni seviyorum siyah ve mavi
Sert bir mücevher gibi olsaydım
No self now, consciously speaking.
No feeling your old self or new self, false imaginings if you think about it, self-conscious nothings everywhere you look.
No one to hear you weep or scream, making a go of it on your own, bye-bye.
No bosom of nature, abandoned on the doorstep of the supernatural, minds full of flagrantly joyless
'Anna, the fact is...' He felt he must try to give words to his feelings. 'With you, I'm in real danger. My heart will never get better if it's broken again. And I know that will happen. There are too many pictures of you, everywhere, too many films. You'll continue with your life and I'll be... finished.'
