Description of the Many First Loves

Vladimir Petrovich, 16 years old, is captivated by Zinaida Zasyekina. However, Zinaida is a beautiful 21 year old woman, being wooed by many men.

The Nose

It was a cold, crisp morning in the hill-top estate in San Fransisco. The cold air that was blowing through the window made me shiver uncontrollably. I couldn't help it, the cold was just to much for me. I continued to shiver until, all of a sudden, I shook off the face I was attached to. Unfortunately, the face was hanging out of a window in a house located in the highest parts of San Fransisco. So, I fell to the ground without anything to break my fall. Luckily, I hit the ground at an angle and started rolling down the hill into the city. As I rolled, everything flashed before my nostrils. I passed people, cars, buses, parks, everything. I just couldn't be stopped. I could smell everything happening around me: the baking of bread, the braking of train-cars, the pollution of factories in the air. Suddenly, I was abruptly stopped by something. As i smelled upwards, I saw a nose-less face. It was fate. As the face picked me up and put me in my place, I realized I was where I needed to be. Fate had brought me to where I was most needed. 

A Love Letter

I write to you - knowing that you are my heart, my soul, my life.
Can I live without you?
Knowing that with every heartbeat that we are apart,
A part of my heart is torn,
a part of my soul is stolen,
and a piece of my life is lost
into an abyss of disillusion and despair.
While in this abyss I fall
for what feels like eternity
with only hints of your presence surrounding me.
Although it is complete darkness,
I can see you...I can see
an image burned into my eyes
not of your face nor your body,
but of your heart and soul.
As my heart aches,
my mind churns...screaming,
 telling me that I am in pursuit
of something that cannot be pursued...
trying to catch something
that cannot be caught.
But my heart ignores my mind,
forcing me to open my arms to you
in which you strike my unprotected chest
with a blade of sorrow and brokenness.
With each stab by body wrenches about
struggling to free itself...
of the agony in which it is experiencing.
Yet I continue to worship this agony
as i worship your beauty
as something much more
than superficiality
in the physical sense.