"While he sat, absorbed in his own recitation, I bent down and kissed him again before leaving, this time on the cheek, as if we were bullfighters, and I placed my hand once more on his shoulder for a moment, like a silent farewell, while he was walking into the mist that the wind drives away, or into that exile in which one has to leave even one’s own first name behind."
— From the third volume of Your Face Tomorrow, by Javier Marias. This is the end of a scene with Jaime and his father, who is aging and near death, and, as is often the case, can remember the past vividly, yet the present only vaguely.
