He drowned me into the flood of love. He said I looked like a lost and found Bambi. He said I was his Bambi. His clumsy sweet deergirl with innocent, diamond eyes and fragile dreams. His too clever lover, dangerously too similar to him, sometimes weak protegee. He said I was rough wind of darklakes land, too weird to be free. That’s what he said.

And he also said, we were coming from the same northern unknown forests, from the same mystic forgotten wild mindwoods. He told me, I was lost but he would take me home.

He was a truly darklove knight and taiga-desert rider. He was rowdy romantic and his time was ruthlessly running the wrong way. He was second from God. He was hardly none.

And I loved him. More than anything.

I loved him until one day again, he shot me to death. With his iron revolver. And wounded I was.

And finally dead.

Abbreviated from a Slavic Legend, Northern Lovestory called, “The diamond-eyed girl and his dark revolver lover”
 

Always loved this. While living in Finland I stumbled across this on a Finnish fashion/art site. Printed it off and kept it. Recently found my printed version (mine had the extended version that I typed and italicized above) and it now hangs lovingly in my cube. 

Still missing Helsinki.