Eleven Minutes. Пауло Коэльо

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      Maria chose to be an adventurer in search of treasure – she put aside her feelings, she stopped crying every night, and she forgot all about the person she used to be; she discovered that she had enough willpower to pretend that she had just been born and so had no reason to miss anyone. Feelings could wait, now what she needed to do was to earn some money, get to know the country and return home victorious.

      Besides, everything around her was very like Brazil in general and her own small town in particular: the women spoke Portuguese, complained about men, talked loudly, moaned about their working hours, turned up late at the club, defied the boss, thought themselves the most beautiful women in the world, and told stories about their Prince Charmings, who were usually living miles away or were married or had no money and so sponged off them. Contrary to what she had imagined from the leaflets Roger had brought with him, the club was exactly as Vivian had said it was: it had a family atmosphere. The girls – described on their work permits as ‘samba dancers’ – were not allowed to accept invitations or to go out with the customers. If they were caught receiving a note with someone’s telephone number on it, they were suspended from work for two whole weeks. Maria, who had expected something livelier and more exciting, gradually allowed herself to succumb to sadness and boredom.

      During the first two weeks, she barely left the boarding house where she was living, especially when she discovered that no one spoke her language, even if she said everything VE-RY SLOW-LY. She was also surprised to learn that, unlike in her own country, the city in which she was living had two different names – it was Genève to those who lived there and Genebra to Brazilians.

      Finally, in the long, tedious hours spent in her small, TV-less room, she concluded:

      (a) she would never find what she was looking for if she couldn’t express herself. In order to do that, she needed to learn the local language.

      (b) since all her colleagues were looking for the same thing, she needed to be different. For that particular problem, she as yet lacked both a solution or a method.

      From Maria’s diary, four weeks after arriving in Genève/Genebra:

      I’ve already been here an eternity, I don’t speak the language, I spend all day listening to music on the radio, looking round my room, thinking about Brazil, longing for work to begin and, when I’m working, longing to get back to the boarding house. In other words, I’m living the future not the present.

       One day, at some distant future date, I’ll get my ticket home, and I can go back to Brazil, marry the owner of the draper’s shop and listen to the malicious comments of those friends who, never having taken any risks themselves, can only see other people’s failures. No, I can’t go back like that. I’d rather throw myself out of the plane as it’s crossing the ocean.

      Since you can’t open the windows in the plane (I had never expected that. What a shame not to be able to breathe in the pure air!), I will die here. But before I die, I want to fight for life. If I can walk on my own, I can go wherever I like.