The problem of this day, the problem of this meeting, the problem that starts this story inside me and the only way it can end it is this: The man who sits down across from me is a man. He’ll never be all one thing or the other. Only a story can be that. Never a person. So I try something new. Not turning my back to the past, not fleeing it, but extending a hand. I say to the past: Come with me, then, as I live.
