" Every afternoon, when we parted, I walked back home dreaming about the moment when I would rescue her from that existence marked by absences, from that night visitor who scared her, from that pampered life that stole the light from her with every passing day. Every afternoon I told myself that I wasn't going to forget her and that, so long as I remembered her, I'd be able to save her. "

― Carlos Ruiz Zafón , The City of Mist: Stories