The mirror in the cramped dressing room was cracked, but it still reflected Alice’s excitement. She was eighteen, wearing a dress the color of a bruised plum, and applying a lipstick that was much too loud for her face.
"Listen to me for just a moment," he said. "I know that look. It’s a fever. You think the lights of the city are stars, but they are just lamps that burn out by dawn." O Mundo Г‰ Um Moinho
"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." The mirror in the cramped dressing room was