For years I've been fleeing without knowing what from. I thought that if I ran further than the horizon, the shadows of the past would move out of my way. I thought that if I put in enough distance, the voices in my mind could be silenced for ever. I returned at last to the secret beach facing the Mediterranean. Beyond it stood the chapel of Sant Elm, always keeping watch from afar. I found the old Tucker belonging to my friend Germán. Oddly enough it's still there, in its final resting place among the pine trees.
I walked down to the shore and sat on the sand where years ago I had scattered Marina's ashes. The sky had the same luminosity as on that day and I felt her presence sharply. I realised that I could no longer flee, that I no longer wished to do so. I had come back home.

Carlos Ruiz Zafón

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