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The old kitchen, in the heart of the city, was filled with the scent
His simple clothes, his messy hair, his hesitant gaze — everything about him contrasted
“Sir… That’s not my dad,” the little girl said as she approached the biker
She entered a biker bar wearing a patch belonging to a dead man, and
“You still belong to me, and you will come home with me,” said the
“Look at me carefully. Such a mistake, here, in front of everyone… do you
— “So, are you going to keep playing the mute?” the soldier said with
The sun gently bathed the small quiet street, where every house seemed to come
— She is not dead! cried the cleaning woman and, with a violent gesture,
— Sir… just one song. — Not today, he said. Stop this noise. But