Paulo Coelho. Zaire (№ 100994)

Drink chocolate, look at the clock, realizing that it's a little early to indulge in a pleasant feeling that I will again be part of humanity. At the moment I like to dream that Esther now appears at the door, pass through those beautiful Persian carpets, sit in silence, smoke, fixed glance out the window, squeeze my hand. Half an hour passes, half an hour, I believe just invented me a story, and then realize it's another game of imagination.