He was so tired, the road ahead kept swallowing kilometres of light in front of him, into the night…

And the night was everywhere, a canvas to his journey, and possibilities…

The lights? Just distractions, highlighting the purpose of the darkness, focus, and directions… right into his destiny, and destination.

The wheel, his instrument, the extension of his will.

So painful, into the night, and yet so tired, and in need of a real break.

From the horizon of the almighty road a luminous sign interrupts his thoughts: “At Paul’s”, it recites.

That place materialised as if it came right out of his mind… and there he was, in front of the entrance door, weirdly fascinated by it.

So he goes in, not too many ceremonies, just a simple “Hi”. Paul was there, as always, to contain people’s streams of thoughts, to allow them to feel, to surprise them even, with the transparency of their being…

Meeting the man was always a sacred encounter for everyone, like meeting someone able to reflect your own soul, and give it back to you, healed, restored, anew…

Then, he saw her, sitting alone and lonely at the counter, probably seeking her own answers, or the right questions to ask to herself…

It was weird how time felt like it stopped there… A hiccup, a world in apnea, just for as long as you need to find yourself again.

He sat at a table just behind the counter… he picked up the menu, just to find out it was empty, nothing was on it, except for a mirror…

Before he could even lift his head, and ask for explanations Paul was already there, by his side, serving him the drink he had just prepared for him.

“Drink it slowly” - he advises.

Soon after he was there alone, again, sitting only in the company of his own drink, and of his own self.

The liquid in the glass reflected the light of the moon filtering through the little sky window, which was perfectly framed into the unconventional ceiling of that place.

All of a sudden that light started to melt, and evaporate into light breaths…

On the other hand, his own self presence started to silently become more solid, more present… as some sort of affirmative kiss between a man, and his own story, the first time they make peace.

And while the moonlight kept melting into his cup, so his painful memories and feelings were becoming more soluble, digestible, bearable…

He kept looking straight at the night, the hands firmly placed on the wheel… and there he went, into the light.