[…] On the other hand, there are very beautiful things: I was in Barcelona a month ago, walking around the Gothic Quarter one evening; and there was an American girl, very pretty, playing the guitar very well and singing. She was seated on the ground singing to earn her living. She sang a bit like Joan Baez, a very pure, clear voice. There was a group of young people from Barcelona listening. I stopped to listen to her, but I stayed in the shadows. At one point, one of these young men who was about twenty, very young, very handsome, approached me. He had a cake in his hand. He said, ‘Julio, take a piece.’ So I took a piece and I ate it, and I told him, ‘Thanks a lot for coming up and giving that to me.’ He said to me, ‘But, listen, I give you so little next to what you’ve given me.’ I said, ‘Don’t say that, don’t say that,’ and we embraced and he went away. Well, things like that, that’s the best recompense for my work as a writer. That a boy or a girl comes up to speak to you and to offer you a piece of cake, it’s wonderful. It’s worth the trouble of having written.