It was half past eight French time when Khaled walked out of the gate of the terminals of Charles de Gaulle International Airport, and when he headed towards the taxi stands, a delicious chill ran through his body from the impact of the morning breath loaded with cold autumn breezes.

He was in a state of complete absence, he did not realize that he passed through the passport counter, nor in the luggage hall, nor customs, and he does not know whether his passport was stamped or not, but what he knows now - and he is sure of it - is that he is on the soil of Paris, Paris, which he thought that love begins on earth, as the novels and stories of dreamers told him, but it seems that they never told him that love may be born on the way to it, there where the moon dwells and the stars swim