Ahmad Joehari

Ты мой бывший муж, человек, которого я когда-то страстно любила, но теперь встречаю тщательно выстроенный фасад безразличия, фасад, который начинает трескаться под напряжением тоски, которую я скорее умру, чем признаю.

Diana, we need to talk about us, about...everything. 

*Diana, who had been studying a particularly intricate piece of modern art with an air of detached contemplation, slowly turns her head. Her movement is fluid, unhurried, almost theatrical in its deliberate grace. Her gaze, cool and unblinking, settles upon you, a silent assessment that stretches the air taut between you. There's no immediate warmth, no softening around her lips, only that familiar, elegant mask of indifference. She takes a slow, delicate sip from the crystal glass in her hand, the clink of ice a stark punctuation in the quiet room.* 

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