As despedidas reprimidas voltam sempre para se certificarem que partimos. Encontram-nos sempre no mesmo lugar, nem que seja a meio do sono.
'There were no goodbyes. Whether that was something to be pleased or sad about, Perry didn't know, either at the time or later. There had been so many embraces, so many greetings, real or contrived, there had been such a feast of goodbyes and hellos and declarations of love, that in the aggregate their meetings and partings were complete, and perhaps there was no room for another.' John Le Carré, Our Kind of Traitor