"Alice," he said softly. His voice sounded like dry leaves. "You’re going to the Lapa arches tonight?"
"You think you’re going toward love," Jorge continued, his voice trembling slightly. "But every kiss you give away tonight to a stranger will take a piece of your soul that you can never buy back. You’ll wake up one day, and you won’t recognize the woman in that glass. You’ll be just another grain of wheat the mill has crushed." O Mundo Г‰ Um Moinho
Alice looked at him, and for a second, the bravado faded. She saw the deep lines on his face—the map of a man who had been through the mill himself. "But I have to see for myself," she whispered. "Alice," he said softly