The Zahir Page 0,69

people tell their stories, they feel braver; when they dance, they are touched by the energy and begin to change radically; love - which, in theory, should be threatened by all these changes - becomes stronger, and they recommend our meetings to their friends.

"Esther continues traveling in order to write her articles, but always comes to the meetings when she is in Paris. One night, she tells me that our work at the restaurant is no longer enough; it only reaches those people who have the money to go there. We need to work with the young. Where will we find them, I ask? They drift, travel, abandon everything, and dress as beggars or characters out of sci-fi movies.

"She says that beggars have no personal history, so why don't we go to them and see what we can learn. And that is how I came to meet all of you.

"These are the things I have experienced. You have never asked me who I am or what I do, because you're not interested. But today, because we have a famous writer in our midst, I decided to tell you."

"But you're talking about your past," said the woman in the clashing hat and coat. "Even though the old nomad..."

"What's a nomad?" someone asks.

"People like us," she responds, proud to know the meaning of the word. "People who are free and manage to live with only what they can carry."

Chapter 7

I correct her:

"That's not quite true. They're not poor."

"What do you know about poverty?" The tall, aggressive man, who now has even more vodka in his veins, looks straight at me. "Do you really think that poverty has to do with having no money? Do you think we're miserable wretches just because we go around begging money from rich writers and guilt-ridden couples, from tourists who think how terribly squalid Paris has become or from idealistic young people who think they can save the world? You're the one who's poor - you have no control over your time, you can't do what you want, you're forced to follow rules you didn't invent and which you don't understand..."

Mikhail again interrupted the conversation and asked the woman:

"What did you actually want to know?"

"I wanted to know why you're telling us your story when the old nomad said you should forget it."

"It's not my story anymore: whenever I speak about the past now, I feel as if I were talking about something that has nothing to do with me. All that remains in the present are the voice, the presence, and the importance of fulfilling my mission. I don't regret the difficulties I experienced; I think they helped me to become the person I am today. I feel the way a warrior must feel after years of training: he doesn't remember the details of everything he learned, but he knows how to strike when the time is right."

"And why did you and that journalist keep coming to visit us?"

"To take nourishment. As the old nomad from the steppes said, the world we know today is merely a story someone has told to us, but it is not the true story. The other story includes special gifts and powers and the ability to go beyond what we know. I have lived with the presence ever since I was a child and, for a time, was even capable of seeing her, but Esther showed me that I was not alone. She introduced me to other people with special gifts, people who could bend forks by sheer force of will, or carry out surgery using rusty penknives and without anaesthesia, so that the patient could get up after the operation and leave.

"I am still learning to develop my unknown potential, but I need allies, people like you who have no personal history."

I felt like telling my story to these strangers too, in order to begin the process of freeing myself from the past, but it was late and I had to get up early the next day to see the doctor and have him remove the orthopedic collar.

I asked Mikhail if he wanted a lift, but he said no, he needed to walk a little, because he felt Esther's absence particularly acutely that night. We left the group and headed for a street where I would be able to find a taxi.

"I think that woman was right," I said. "If you tell a story, then that means you're still not really free of it."

"I am free, but, as