"You don't believe me, do you?" said Patty.

"No of course I believe you" I quickly answered.

Patty had shared earlier the fact that in a past life she was Jesus Christ.
"It's just that" I added, "if you really were, then the guy has failed in a way,
seeing that you're here again. Unless of course it's the end of the world."
"Well maybe it is."
We both laughed, while I glance over, again, to that dark haired woman from acro
ss the bar.
She was sitting with a new Jamil whom I had met earlier in the evening. I couldn
't help but glance over again, and try to imagine who she really were for I felt
I might not get to meet, not tonight, and maybe not ever.
The first one notices about a woman are her eyes, no matter what people believe
or think they do, even if one is sometimes compelled to look elsewhere, the eyes
stay with you. She had big dark eyes, and of course black curly hair, black as
the night, and she was hugged in tight black dress.
"Well I'm off" I said turning to Patty, "you know something?"
"What?" she asked
"You're my own personal Jesus Christ"
Patty laughed, while I inquired : "can one kiss Jesus' left shoulder?" not waiti
ng for a real answer I lay one on her shoulder and got up to leave. At that mome
nt, I noticed Jamil signal me to come over.
"Georges, I'd like you to meet Pia" Jamil made the introductions
"How do you do Pia? What a lovely name"
Pia smiled and said thank you.
"Pia has graduated in Clinical Psychology from the UK, and will be coming to Bei
rut soon"
"That's great" I said, "Well if I can be of any help, it"ll be a pleasure"
"Thank you, that's very nice of you, I appreciate it, and I'll take you up on th
e offer."
"Did you speak with colleagues already?"
"Yes just one, a colleague of yours."
"But if you want my advice don't go over to the Jesuits. Since you have a UK deg
ree go to the Americans, they pay much better."
"I was thinking of that in fact, I might just do that." She paused, and then inq
uired, "are you a therapist yourself?"
"I'm afraid not. I don't believe in therapy really."

"Really? How so?"

"Well I think there are new avenues to explore. Even though therapy in general,
and psychoanalysis in particular has it's uses definitely, but I subscribe to La
can's view that healing is not the final aim."
"And what is the final aim of psychoanalysis."
"As in any human activity, and the symbolic, and cultural levels it brings with
it, the aim is to give meaning."
"But doesn't that heal? Once the patient has found meaning, can't we equate it w
ith healing?"
"I don't we should. You see, healing means there's something wrong that we are t
rying to fix, a disease that is not in accordance with normality. And, yes of co
urse, when you deal with Psychosis, or autism through Psychiatry or Neuroscience
you can posit a normality, and find ways to go back to it, although in all fair
ness, no amount of drugs, or therapy can help an autist become sane again."
"So what do you advise psychologists do?"
"I advise them to keep doing what they're doing, and labour under the illusion t
hat they're doing something meaningful, but that is something I cannot do."
"What can you do?"
"I believe I can make a difference. I believe there is a way to do something mea
ningful. You see I am constantly in that state of mind that life is short, and w
e need to go for the essential, and I believe everything begins with thinking, t
ruly thinking. Without thinking we are nothing. And I recently discovered that o
ne cannot think outside of writing, one has to write. Unfortunately not many peo
ple can write, or even have the time for it, and that makes them, In my mind, un
able to think, they are stuck with a basic set of values, and end up rehashing t
he same ideas over and over. Writing is everything, History, and civilization st
arted with writing, we keep forgetting that."
"I see your point. So people talking about their life, and issues doesn't really
get them very far, if I understand what you're saying."
"This is what I believe."
"But as you said, most people cannot write, or don't have time to. So what do yo
u advise then?"
"I think those of us who can write, have a responsibility to write for those who
cannot."
"Don't writers already do that?"
"No, they don't. Writers mostly write about themselves, even if they believe the
y are writing about others. They use people's lives for inspiration, but what th
ey are really writing about is about themselves."
"Madame Bovary, c'est moi" Pia said quoting Flaubert, to make my point.
"Exactly."
"So, is there a way out of this egotistical maelstrom?"

"I think there is, yes. It's quite simple; you write about one person at a time,
and you show what you're writing to said person, on a regular basis, so that sh
e can let fiction go through her life, and get a sense of empowerment. That way,
fiction meets reality, art meet life, and we break free of the solipsistic nexu
s."
"It's a kind of therapy then"
"If you want, although it wouldn't deserve the word, because it's not about heal
ing."
"Isn't there some healing happening though empowerment?"
"Well I don't really believe it's about healing at this point, since we're not d
ealing with a past stuck in our narrative; we are changing the narrative, rewrit
ing it. The past we lived is still there of course, but there is another one, th
at coexists with it where some of the events that we have issues with did not ta
ke place, and things went differently. This parallel narrative is not just in ou
r mind, but in the minds of all who read the story and imagine it. Thing become
reality if we share them."
"So the narratives we'd be writing, would have to be published."
"Obviously. Of course the readers won't know exactly who the main character is i
n real life, and this is the whole point; they just need to know that there is a
person out there that is 'carrying' this narrative. But she of course would kno
w her story is out there, and that it made way to people's hearts and mind, and
she would be empowered from that."
"It's quite interesting I have to say."
"Thank you."
"I myself don't write though, even though I would like to some day."
"Well you're still young. How old are you? I'd say you're 27."
"Close enough, I'm 26."
"I'm always good at guessing people's ages. I frighten myself sometimes. Althoug
h I'd wish you were older, like 31 maybe."
"Come on! She's just the right age." Jamil interjected, "we are the ones who are
too old."
"You're right there. Unfortunately."
Pia got the hint, and the compliment, and smiled. I smiled back. I said to mysel
f that I had to find a way to get out the attraction I felt for the moment I saw
her come in. I had to find out what attracted me, and rationalize it. Maybe it
was the fact that she was taller than average, or the way she stood straight, an
d the kind of self-control her attitude betrayed. Maybe is was that thick dark h
air, the eyes, or the plump lips. They might all be part of the reason one would
feel instantly attracted to her. But being that close to her I realized what I
unconsciously noticed as she came in and sat down across from me on the other s
ide of the bar. Pia was not full figured but her appearance made me think of som
ething. It made me think of those Mother deities that archeologists found all ov
er Europe, that even neuroscientists like Ramachandran studied to discover the m
ysteries of how art and civilization started. She had wider hips than average, a
nd the effect was more pronounced with her sitting on a bar stool. And there was

something else, that think I noticed unwillingly as she appeared at the entranc
e, for even though that dress hugged he figure tightly and maybe even, precisely be
cause of that the cleavage was too deep not to make think of the breasts on those V
enuses, and deities that History has found, and historians admitted of being at
the origins of Art History.
"Do you like art?" I asked hastily, becoming aware that my silence did not go un
oticed.
"I don't much understand it, especially the contemporary part of it."
"Well I said" breathing an inner sigh of relief "contemporary is somewhat a spe
ciality for me, I would like to see you again, and talk about contemporary art"
I proposed hoping that with time my attraction for her would transform in shared
cultural activities.
"I would like that."
"Perfect." I smiled.