The previous night had made love as if possessed with a burning intensity and unique, as if it were last night. Indeed it was the last night of their relationship, although they were not aware at the time. "I'll write," she had said. "Me too. And I call on the phone. "I'll see you soon in Spain. For then you will have made the Revolution ye.
"God hears you," he said out of habit, as if Providence had anything to do with such matters. They never know one another. The girl returned the photos, surprised and puzzled, "Yes, it is my mother. I have seen some of those pictures in my house. Now were the two eyes that teared Manuel. "I will be stupid," he said.
"Your daughter!, Clear that it is his daughter!". Michael Chabon gathered all the information. Believe in the mathematical calculation of probabilities, there would have been just one in a billion for something to happen like that. But it had happened. Manuel was back thirty years later to Lisbon in search of a girl he was in love when he was young and had a few hours with her daughter. In a place as improbable as any other: on the terrace of a modern cafeteria, where three girls well dressed and well cared for, looking to belong to good families, talking so inconsequential. – What is your mother? Asked the blonde girl with blue eyes and the same direct de la Rosa that he knew. "Please allow me some time alone with this man, asked his friends.