"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 across 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 waiting for a real answer I lay one on her shoulder and got up to leave. At that moment, 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 Beirut 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 the 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 degree go to the Americans, they pay much better.""I was thinking of that in fact, I might just do that." She paused, and then inquired, "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 Lacan'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 with healing?""I don't we should. You see, healing means there's something wrong that we are trying to fix, a disease that is not in accordance with normality. And, yes of course, 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 fairness, 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 that 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 meaningful. You see I am constantly in that state of mind that life is short, and we need to go for the essential, and I believe everything begins with thinking, truly thinking. Without thinking we are nothing. And I recently discovered that one cannot think outside of writing, one has to write. Unfortunately not many people can write, or even have the time for it, and that makes them, In my mind, unable to think, they are stuck with a basic set of values, and end up rehashing the same ideas over and over. Writing is everything, History, and civilization started 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 you 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 they are writing about others. They use people's lives for inspiration, but what they 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 she 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 nexus.""It's a kind of therapy then""If you want, although it wouldn't deserve the word, because it's not about healing.""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 dealing with a past stuck in our narrative; we are changing the narrative, rewriting it. The past we lived is still there of course, but there is another one, that coexists with it where some of the events that we have issues with did not take place, and things went differently. This parallel narrative is not just in our 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 in 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 know 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. Although 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 myself 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, and the kind of self-control her attitude betrayed. Maybe is was that thick dark hair, 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 side of the bar. Pia was not full figured but her appearance made me think of something. It made me think of those Mother deities that archeologists found all over Europe, that even neuroscientists like Ramachandran studied to discover the mysteries of how art and civilization started. She had wider hips than average, and 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 entrance, for even though that dress hugged he figure tightly and maybe even, precisely because of that the cleavage was too deep not to make think of the breasts on those Venuses, 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 unoticed."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 speciality 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.