One of the few ways of getting through life is thinking about something we want that’s going to happen to us. When it finally happens, and you always realize when it does even if you didn’t have a clear idea of what exactly you were longing for, the whole house of cards collapses. As anyone who hasn’t yet taken up the modern habit of not reflecting on the essentials knows, what’s important is not your wish coming true, but the fact that it hasn’t done so yet and the possibility that it will. As I accelerated with my good foot and controlled the clutch with my bad foot, which I had scraped on the bottom of the pool, I came to the conclusion that I had no choice but to return Rosana to her parents and forget about this game. After rummaging amongst my worse inclinations, I realized that I lacked the nerve to go beyond the point I had reached. My scruples were, in part, what held me back. Some of my colleagues had daughters Rosana’s age, and some of them were guys I more or less respected.
What do You think about The Faint-hearted Bolshevik?
