Long since, the desert wind wiped away our footprints in the sand. But at every second of my existence, I remember what happened, and you still walk in my dreams and in my reality. Thank you for having crossed my path.

How could your cover be blown in Canada? Why even bother going dark there? How could you tell?

You bastard, he thought, almost affectionately, watching the minuscule protoplasm fluttering on the slide. You dirty little bastard.

No one can judge. Each person knows the extent of their own suffering or the total absence of meaning in their lives.

Written By Paulo Coelho

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