The valley of passion

Just as on the night Walter Dias visited his daughter, his steps again pause on the landing, he takes off his shoes against the wall with the agility of a shadow, he prepares to go up the stairs, and I cannot dissuade him or stop him, for the simple reason that I wish him to quickly reach the last step, open the door without knocking and enter through the narrow threshold, without saying a word. And that's what happened. Not enough time had passed to reconstruct these actions, and he was already in the middle of the floor holding his shoes in one hand. It was raining that distant winter night over the sandy plain, and the sound of the water on the tiles protected us from others and from the world like a drawn curtain that no human force could tear. Otherwise, Walter would not have gone up or entered the room.