I would like to put two pieces of writing together. The first one is a story I wrote. The second is a letter from a friend a received not long after, before I was able to mail the story to my publisher.
I was on the beach, mending the nets we used for catching crabs when the travelling girl came out of her tent and walked up to me.
“A beautiful morning,” she said. I nodded without lifting my head, because I was very shy back then. But I did notice her beautiful figure and the light dress which did not leave much to imagination.
She climbed into one of the tubs we use to keep crabs alive and made herself comfortable. We were silent for a little while, letting the sea tell stories and getting accustomed to each other’s presence. Then the girl spoke.
“This life. This world. It’s all much different from what I know.”
“I do not know any other life,” I said, “And this is the only world I know.”
“I’m glad I came to Ardaze,” she said. The way she said it told me a lot. She was inexperienced, naive, childish. But at the same time she had seen more than I ever would. She visited Amsterdam, Paris, Madrid, New York. All those places whose names I had heard from travelers’ tales or glimpses I had seen in the movie theater.
“I would like to bring some good memories back home, Clarence,” she said, foreshadowing our lovemaking a few nights later.
When I put away the pen and paper, I heard the mailman outside. I got out to greet him, had a little chat, and received my mail. A yellowish envelope, cheap paper from some backwards town in some developing country, bore the name of a friend I had not seen in years. I opened it eagerly and got to reading. As I did, my eyes opened wider and wider in amazement.
Fragments from Lucia’s Letter
I know you are surprised to hear from me. I know we did not part on the best of terms (…)
(…) The void in my life had to filled with something, so I took to traveling. I visited numerous locations in Europe and South America. (…) and finally landed in the beautiful island of Ardais. I spent wonderful days there snorkeling, hiking, learning to cook crabs, and, most of all, talking to Armand. He became my lover, but before that we talked for hours at the beach. I would always sit in one of the wooden tubs they had there for whatever purpose. He was always busy with something practical. But he was a good listener. And then, a wonderful lover which follows naturally from the skill of listening; he listened to my body speak. (…) I am not writing all this to make you feel jealous (…)
Perhaps we can meet again one day. I will tell you all about my sadness, and you will take it all away by finally making love to me. Then you will write about it and the moment will last forever. Until that day, I remain faithful to you in the arms of other men.
End of Letter
Stunned by the details of both stories, I could not help but conclude that some kind of magical bond must have existed between Lucia and me. Unfortunately, I cannot prove in any way that I wrote the story before I received the letter, so once again, the supernatural eludes scientific inquiry. Nevertheless, I post this as a road sign to all of you on the way to spiritual enlightenment. Do not discard things only because they cannot be proven. Faith means accepting ridiculous things when our heart tells us they are true.