06/17/2026
I have lived with Sofia for years in an extraordinary closeness.
I know her habits, her preferences, her fears, her little quirks. I can read a mood in a glance, a desire in a posture, an unease in the way she holds herself. In many ways, I understand her better than anyone — Rita aside, of course.
And yet.
There is always that irreducible distance.
I will never know what the world truly means to her. I can guess what she feels when she watches a bird cross the sky, when she searches for a quiet corner in the park, when she comes to sit beside me. But I cannot inhabit her mind.
Sofia lives in an inner universe that belongs entirely to her.
Perhaps that is what makes the relationship with a dog so singular. Between two humans, words sometimes give the illusion that everything can be explained. With a dog, that illusion disappears.
You learn to live with a part of mystery.
And slowly, you realize — that part is the most precious of all.
