Running through the midfields of his emotions the man started to love that woman. He traveled his naked look through the limits of her eyes and sent a warm kiss of words to her nest breath. The woman closed her eyes into a desperate dream and send a couple of breaths right between his last emotion. Somewhere else an old writer was starting to write a poem for the first time. But the God of silence left a white book in both, that couple and this writer. It was a long metaphoric travel to the limits of endless love and nobody could not know their names except the air of their breaths.