I have a recurring dream that has not been here in some time. It is something that gives me both joy and sadness at the same time. I dream that my father returns. He sits in the studio and begins to speak of my books, while I wonder where he has been all these years. But I realize that he is here, and it makes no sense to ask for an explanation. Instead, I tell him that I continue to read Chateaubriand, Sait-Beuve, and Michelet, whom he admired. After a while, I start believing that my father is going to stay home, but when I awaken I see that he has only come to visit.
Fernando Quiroz The kingdom that was meant for me Conversations with Alvaro Mutis