«I don't think I know how to love you.» When you hear these words run away, run without looking back. Through the wells of courtyards, past sleepy passers-by, stumbling the sidewalks, through the zebras and kaleidoscopes of traffic lights, dropping tears in frozen puddles. Hide. Bury your heart in the squares of a deserted Park, where the line of trees and stars is blurring up. Cry. Don't keep the pain inside you. You so want to scream and your heart is torn apart from resentment and happines