She threw the papers away and got up. What was this? How could the writer have written about something, that she'd experienced only yesterday? It was impossible!
She called him on the mobile phone, but he didn't answer. Phoned again. And again. After the fifth try, she gave up. He had to have been on Piazza del Popolo at the same time as her. Why hadn't he shown himself to her? Didn't he know what she looked like? She only knew what he looked like, because there was a small photo of him on the cover of his latest novel, but she'd never met him. Had only talked to him on the phone a couple of times, and exchanged e-mails.
Maybe she was being followed by that taxi driver after all. Maybe he reported back to the writer who then used it in his writings, she thought, and for the first time she had a notion, telling her, that something was going on, which she couldn't quite comprehend.
She called him on the mobile phone, but he didn't answer. Phoned again. And again. After the fifth try, she gave up. He had to have been on Piazza del Popolo at the same time as her. Why hadn't he shown himself to her? Didn't he know what she looked like? She only knew what he looked like, because there was a small photo of him on the cover of his latest novel, but she'd never met him. Had only talked to him on the phone a couple of times, and exchanged e-mails.
Maybe she was being followed by that taxi driver after all. Maybe he reported back to the writer who then used it in his writings, she thought, and for the first time she had a notion, telling her, that something was going on, which she couldn't quite comprehend.
Illustrated novel
Take a look at some of the illustrations here
