Another view of history

the secret of the impossible

Sitting in a quiet corner, with the scent of paper and fresh ink in the air, I, Max, take up the pen to write a letter to you, my sweet Daisy. There's a tale I've never shared, a narrative that has, over time, become a treasure locked within my heart. Now, older and filled with memories, I realize that this sequence of events, these fractions of the impossible, have shaped something that is utterly real. And I find myself pondering: "What if it's possible? What if destiny truly wanted us to be united?"

This story is one of the most delightful and moving of my life, and it is with joy that I share it with you.

I knew you were coming to Rio de Janeiro to enchant the night with your voice, like a star crossing the sky and descending to shine upon the earth. You had revealed the day of your arrival, but where, at what time, and how everything would unfold remained shrouded in a veil of mystery. It was as if the universe sought to challenge me to decipher these enigmas, testing me with each passing second of uncertainty.

But there lingered an even greater doubt, like a fog of hesitation hovering over my mind: should I seek you out myself? Our paths had crossed a few times, our voices had echoed in dialogues that I cherish as relics, yet there were always those periods of silence, like the calm between storms. And there I remained, caught in my own contemplation, like a traveler at a magical crossroads, pondering and pondering, waiting for a sign that perhaps only fate could deliver.

And then, in a breath of madness, I rose from the couch where I had been sitting, resolved to go... But to where? That question still hung in the air, like a mystery waiting to be unraveled. I asked a close friend of mine in São Paulo if he knew where you would be landing. He gave me an answer, but as I entered the address into my GPS, my heart sank at the sight of the distance: over two hours by car. Time until your arrival was slipping away, like sand through a magical hourglass running between my fingers.

In that moment of pure insanity, a bold idea took hold of me. I thought, "Well, I'm just going to go. How I'll get there, I don't know, but I will go!" And with that burning determination, I cast aside my uncertainties, ready to embrace the unknown and journey toward a destination that, in some way, I felt was waiting for me.

I ran to the nearest bus stop, my heart racing with the adrenaline of my decision. Upon encountering a man there, I showed him the airport address on my phone and asked, "How do I get there?" He began to describe all the steps I needed to follow, his voice steady and almost magical.

But when I inquired if I could make it in under an hour, he merely laughed and said, "No." I believe, in that moment, my face reflected all the uncertainties of the world. Yet, the man, sensing my desperation, turned and shouted to his grandson, who was a motorcyclist, "Can you take this young man to the airport?"

"Sure," the grandson replied, "but only halfway; I have commitments in that direction." Then he asked me what I was doing at the airport. With a glimmer in my eyes, I responded, "Well, I'm going to meet the woman I love." At that instant, there was a pause in the air, as if time had frozen. Everyone at the bus stop ceased their chatter. The motorcyclist, surprised, turned back and yelled, "Tell (I can't remember the name) to meet me there; he'll take the kid to the airport!"

In that moment, the world around me felt charged with possibility, as if fate itself had intervened to propel me forward. The anticipation of reuniting with you, Daisy, filled me with a sense of purpose that drowned out any lingering doubts. It was a wild and reckless adventure, yet it felt as though the universe had conspired to lead me exactly where I needed to be.

Turning to me, the grandson said with the determination of a modern-day knight, "Come on, we can't waste time!" And with that, we set off, weaving through cars and running red lights, as if the very city were clearing a path for us. I felt the cold wind of Rio against my face, and though fear pulsed with every turn, the dread of being late to see you was far greater than any other feeling. The adrenaline coursed through my veins, urging me to live this moment like a fairy tale in motion.