When I was 20 a friend of mine read for me a passage of a book called Rayuela by the argentinian writer Julio Cortázar, it seemed very interesting but I didn't pay attention to that until now, six years later I started to read it and it was a unique experience having read the same passage that my friend read for me, I remember very well, it was a friday night, we were sitting in the cafeteria of the university, we were four, my friend Roberto, Alejandra (the one who read the book), a girl that I didn't like it and me, the lights were fews and I remember my book's friend, it was lined by a beautiful lavander color paper, we were just ten minutes because it was late and I was worrying about not taking the bus early. Oh...How many simple memories of a lovely time.
And I'm in the first chapter of the book and I love it, I wonder if magicians are part of a human being's eternity or just part of single wonderful moment.
Bianka
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