Pierre Durand.

People die all the time, and it's strange the things we remember—the unique images and feelings that stay with us for years and years.

Pierre realized he had never had a “cat,” and had never lived in one place long enough to have a simple pet.

“And for a moment, the only desire he had was to have a pet cat.” Simple desires that he ignored, and at 51 he wonders why – and why he denied himself something so simple.

It was a Saturday afternoon, nine months after starting his treatment for lung cancer. Pierre closed his eyes and remembered all the service he had provided to his country.

As he remembered missions, confrontations, victories, and bottles of victory drinks, he remembered all the celebrations.

Slowly, the years became faster and the days longer. Nightfall seemed to take an eternity, but Christmas came in the blink of an eye.

With each passing day, it became more difficult for him to differentiate the days. However, he remembered his whole life, even the most insignificant details, like the day—he saw a wet and abandoned cat on the street.

Pierre often wondered if the choices—he had made had led him to a more difficult. He remembered the day he saw a stray cat and thought about adopting it, and how, in a moment of weakness. He gave up the idea.

He also wondered if having a home to share with a pet would have made any difference in his life. Would having that company and responsibility have been able to fill the emotional void he had felt for so long?

Pierre had always searched for challenges, thrills, and adventures that made him feel alive. But now, looking back, he wonders if it was all worth it.

He realized that maybe he had lost something significant in life—something that couldn't be found -in the highest mountains or the deepest seas. The emotional connection and joy; that could be found in a furry companion, a simple cat.

He was driving to Brittany. His illness had progressed, and the doctors had given up hope. His cancer had metastasized, and his trip was a way to celebrate the end of his life.

But it was much more than that; it was a convenient disguise for a lonely man. He wanted to relive the beginning of his life—his passion for stories, which started early. He was raised by his uncle Armel Durand, a famous archaeologist, after the death of his parents.

He spent most of his childhood and adolescence in dusty ruins and, through various excavations around the world, learned many things.

Saqqara (Egypt) was the most surprising place he had ever seen.

But mysteriously, he got involved in espionage. He worked for years at the DGSE. Despite loving archeology.

Pierre wanted to forget the future, with the end so near. He had served in intelligence, overseeing spies and conducting secret missions, but it was all over. Pierre wanted to bury himself in the distant past to relive memories of the past.

Pierre arrived in a small town with medieval touches and parked his car in front of a small mansion he had inherited from his uncle.

The mansion had a rustic appearance, with stone walls and exposed wooden beams. The entrance was marked by a wooden door carved with medieval symbols.

Upon entering, Pierre was overwhelmed with feelings, looking at the dark, polished wooden floor and office walls lined with wooden shelves that housed hundreds of old, hand-bound books that belonged to his uncle Armel Durand.

There was a fireplace in the center of the room, with a chimney that rose to the high, vaulted ceiling. In front of the fireplace, in one corner of the room, there was a solid wood table with a stack of old boxes underneath.

Some of the boxes were opened, revealing a mix of curious objects, such as beeswax candles, old parchment with elegant calligraphy, a pair of leather gloves, and a set of iron keys.

Around the room, several lanterns were hanging with their candles extinguished. The atmosphere was quiet- but with a warm- and enriching; feeling, as if the house -were filled with stories and mysteries.

Pierre looked around the room and felt a sense of comfort. He saw so many old objects that belonged to his uncle Armel and now were part of his history.

As he examined the old boxes under the table, Pierre felt a sense of connection to his past and his family, as if the objects were witnesses to his existence.

The old books on the wooden shelves were like portals to other times and places for Pierre, allowing him to travel through the pages to distant and unknown worlds.

The beeswax candles, old parchment with elegant calligraphy, leather gloves, and iron keys were like pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly into Pierre's life. He knew that each of these objects had its own story -that was intertwined with his live.

They are a source of comfort for Pierre and a constant reminder of who he is and where he comes from. As Pierre spends his final days in this house surrounded by these ancient objects. He feels a deep sense of peace and belonging. These objects represent his life, his identity, and all of his childhood and youth.

A few days after his arrival, Pierre began to dig through all the boxes and review the old books on the shelf. He found some translations of Sumerian tablets, including the “Epic of Gilgamesh” and the “Tablet of Destinies”, which supposedly contain prophecies of the gods about the future of humanity.

Pierre also read about the “Emerald Tablets,” which consist of thirteen enigmatic sentences that address concepts such as the nature of reality, the principle of correspondence, the transmutation of matter, and the transformation of consciousness.

And two more days passed quickly as Pierre continued to explore the many books in his uncle's house. His attention was fixed on the iron keys. He knew what the keys were guarding. They were some books bound by hand by his uncle, ten copies, and he hadn't seen those books for eight years.

Pierre took the key and headed to the attic. Putting the key in the lock, he turned it slowly, and there it was: a collection of books about other worlds. His uncle had mentioned that he had found those writings in excavation and had separated and bound them by hand.

Pierre had read all the books, and as he looked at those books, he felt nostalgic. He opened some copies, and to his surprise, some were; completely blank.

For a while; he always carried one or two of those books with him. However, he hadn't read them in eight years. Pierre knew that remembering is living, and he excitedly considered which book he would read again.

But there it was, his favorite book intact, which he last read twenty-five years ago. The name of the book is a cliché, which made him smile. Star Dragons: Wings, Flames, and Magic!

The ink used to print the books was bright and vibrant, giving life and a special glow to the letters. The words seemed to jump off the page, causing a stirring of emotions and involvement in the narrative.

And his favorite book, Star Dragons: Wings, Flames, and Magic, seemed like a Hollywood script.