The image of my multiple "selves" torments me constantly. Sometimes this feels like a richness of nature, yet on bad days, it seems a dangerous disease.

  Sleep would not come last night. It was midnight. The urge to get up, walk through the house, and go out into the yard grew strong. Both doors in the room were open, creaking incessantly. Words, phrases, and scenes with Anzhelica raced through my mind. Everything became clear and vivid, as if these moments of life were being relived anew.

  Another meeting with Alexander took place in the 'Ladya' cafe. The focus of his attention was our story with Anzhelica. This time, a stubborn attempt was made to prove that she does not exist - that she is merely a deception of the senses, an invented image, a beautiful inlaid box filled with trivialities.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  And then his voice cut through: “But you are lying.”

  Great outrage followed those words. “Lying?” The thought flashed through my mind. “Is he about to turn his back on me? And yet, how delighted he was during our first meeting.”

  I am caught: on one side lies her magnificence, and on the other, his talent. Love exists for both, though in different ways; one part of me is drawn to Anzhelica, while the other leans toward Alexander. He opens a world of mystery, whereas Anzhelica attracts with danger. A choice must be made, yet it feels impossible. The thought of telling him everything I felt for her feels like betrayal—a surrender of my most sacred inner world.

  Of course, some details of her life could be shared, perhaps introducing him into my world. But quite possibly, my own secrecy will prove even deeper than Anzhelica’s. Is this a fear of appearing ridiculous? Whatever the reason, there is no hurry to be frank.

  I understood perfectly well that, beyond her seductive manner and playing to the audience, Anzhelica was capable of nothing more.