I WAS STANDING BEHIND the bench and to the right. “You returned,” said the prophet, without any movement of his head, but still maintaining his gaze into the distance. He couldn’t possibly have seen me, but he knew I was there. It was something I could never get used to…being with someone you felt could, at any given time, see through you. “Why?” he asked, still gazing toward the waters. “Why did you return?” “Because,” I replied, “you’re the only one who can give me the answer.” “To what?” he asked. “To the problem.” “To what problem?” “To the problem of you.” “I’m the only one who can answer the problem of me?” he said with a hint of playfulness in his voice. “I don’t know, Nouriel; it sounds like a paradox to me.” “Am I wrong?” I asked. “No,” he replied. “You’re not wrong.” I joined him on the bench. It was only then that he broke his gaze to look at me. “But are you ready?” he asked. “For…?” “The answer.” “I hope so.” “Then let’s begin. You...
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