Dear reader, I’m so glad to speak to you again!

Young man — are you all right?

Madam, I cannot hide my admiration!

Monsieur, my respects.

 

We are all eagerly waiting for the continuation of this story.

— We? you ask.

— Don’t you, the author, already know what happens next?

 

Of course I do.

But just like you, I enjoy reliving these moments, time after time, together with you.

 

And I thought:

My readers must have a bunch of questions.

Maybe they’re dissatisfied with something, or want to suggest an idea?

 

Sure, the plot is already shaped, the characters defined, the details written down —

they just haven’t appeared before your eyes yet.

The Author simply hasn’t revealed the story.

 

So…

Do you have any questions for the Author — for me?

Yes? No? Write to me.

Maybe you have remarks or suggestions?

Yes? No? Write to me.

 

And while we wait — a few brushstrokes about Him.

Or rather, about them…

Oh, that will be in the next publication.

 

And me?

I’m meeting her.

 

There she comes, hurrying down the stairs,

holding her dress so she doesn’t stumble.

Ah! Thank heavens.

How beautiful she is.

Nothing can spoil her — not haste, not worry, not time.

 

This wonderful creature is rushing toward me

so we can spend the evening together —

filled with light, beauty, music, and love.

 

— Oh! I couldn’t find my shoes for so long…

They were right here — and suddenly gone.

Found them!

— Great. Let’s go. Careful as you sit down… There. I’m here.

 

I sit beside her,

and we drive off, tires whispering along the asphalt.

Her hand rests in mine.

She looks at me, and I look at her.

 

— You’re beautiful.

— Thank you. I feel good with you.

— Oh… a feather got tangled in your hair…