هزاروچهارصدوچهارکیلومتر

I will never imagined that I can be touched again by words anymore, the thing is your words are not words, I feel you and I value every letter you dropped here my dear sweet H. What have I done to touch the glimpses of your soul, I am honored. I love you, and church what you are feeling, the silent echoes no one can here.. 

Rita, July 26, Damascus