The Shadow Of The Wind

I just spent the most fabulous days through Barcelona and Paris, made new friends, made some enemies and learned where to eat the best croquetas in all of Spain. 

Interestingly enough, I never left my house. 

I read a book and I daresay, perhaps, without robbing John Irving or Pat Conroy of any merit acquired through the years (My favorite authors in my eyes), that this will be one of my favorite books of all time. 

Despite it being a translation from Spanish, The Shadow Of The Wind, is a compelling story with language that  grabbed me from page one, stealing me from slumber and obligation as I immersed myself in the tale. 

It’s been a long while since another’s words had so much dominion over me. This was the type of narrative that made me feel the envy of the literate in the greenest of hues. 

(Why can’t I write this way?)

This morning,  as i finished the book prior to starting my chores of the day, I had a lump in my throat as the pages came to their inevitable conclusion. Here I was again at the train station of departure where my protagonists were boarding the rail car and exiting from my life. 

I will not lie…I cried. I was transported so quickly back into my reality when ‘the end’ hit that my melancholy got the best of me. 

Goodbye Daniel, Bea, Julian, Nuria, Miquel and Fermin – my new found friends and companions of my visual imagination these past few days. You’ve touched my spirit and inspired me to love you across miles of reality not of my world. 

I will miss you and I will cherish the time we shared. You played the parts and I watched and waited. 

You didn’t disappoint. 

All I can do now is introduce you to others so that in the shadow of that wind, their souls, like mine, can soar to places where lovers of words find their happy place. 

Thank you Carlos Ruiz Zafón. 

 

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