the witch of portobello

we were introduced in winter of 2002. when i reached for him. would not let go. i was fragile to his words. hopeless to his charm. captive in his world. holding him day after night. inhaling his power. exhaling my weakness. i was his forever…at the end. the day had come. his story had been told. his hero had survived. i had to let go. 5 years would have to pass. yesterday would have to come. a twist in fate would have to be done. so i would meet him in person. his name i would scream. “stay” i would shout. two hours of waiting would have to pass. our eyes to lock. our smiles to shine. “love” he would write. next to my name he would sign. his hands i would touch. his voice i would hear. his face i would see. “my books are for all people looking to find their own path in life” he said. what magic would come along with him? now that our paths have crossed. now that he is no longer a voice in my head. he is an image in my life.

footnote: brazilian author paulo coelho was in dubai yesterday to promote his latest book the witch of portobello. more than 500 people were squeezing their way in to the tiny bookstore to get a personalized signed book. i waited in line for more than two hours. i even got stepped on. but i did it.  i got his signature. it was a good adventure. something to remember. he is my favourite author in the whole wide world.

the end.

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