"What are you writing? Elissa asks. What I am writing? I answer, buying time as I know that it is impossible to be evasive when Elissa asks me in that way, with those eyes, with that look. I will tell her that I am writing about her, about love and even about happiness. But also about sadness, because this will also be the story about my mother, about loosing her. But I can´t say any of this out loud, so I hesitate and she pulls away. Proust, I finally answer. Do you remember that we talked about Proust? Our first fall together. Do you remember? "
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