Existo. Es algo tan dulce, tan dulce, tan lento. Y leve; como si se mantuviera solo en el aire. Se mueve. Por todas partes, roces que caen y se desva… - Jean-Paul Sartre

There is only one day left, always starting over: It is given to us at dawn and taken away from us at dusk.

I have reconsidered my thoughts of yesterday. I was completely dry: it made no difference to me whether there had been no adventures. I was only curious to know whether there could never he any.
This is what I thought: for the most banal even to become an adventure, you must (and this is enough) begin to recount it. This is what fools people: a man is always a teller of tales, he lives surrounded by his stories and the stories of others, he sees everything that happens to him through them; and he tries to live his own life as if he were telling a story.
But you have to choose: live or tell.

I felt less alone when I didn't know you yet: I was waiting for the other. I thought only of his strength and never of my weakness. And now here you are, Orestes, it was you. I look at you and I see that we are two orphans.