Chapter 49

RUBIN

My wings are sore. My

back aches and my shoulders burned as I stretched my arms and tried to land

gracefully by the tree overlooking the valley. I believed that I am nearing

Paris now judging by the sophisticated way this French people are acting. I

took my first sandwich from the depths of my satchel, entertaining myself with

one of those shivering letters.

Mon Reve,

It’s quite funny to think

that somewhere, you were probably sleeping soundly as I write this letter to

you, or maybe, you are having your breakfast, or going out with a friend – in

some other place and possibly in some...