I was pleased to see the bicycle leaning against the post in front of the workshop. A beautiful woman, around my age, with white hair already showing, tall, not too thin, with brown eyes streaked with yellow that conveyed both liveliness and mystery—though at that moment, they also carried a hint of sadness—crossed the street and reached the workshop door at the same time as me. We both made the same gesture with our hands, signalling for the other to go in first. Neither of us moved. We laughed. I insisted, and Sofia accepted the courtesy, stepping inside while I followed.
That was the name of one of Loureiro’s sisters—the shoemaker who loved red wine and philosophy books, a master at stitching together ideas with the same skill he used to sew bags and shoes. He smiled at our arrival, kissed his sister’s cheeks affectionately, and gave me a firm hug. That day, our meeting was purely coincidental. I had met Sofia years earlier at the wedding of one of Loureiro’s nieces, the daughter of another sister. Since then, we had never crossed paths again. She had caught my attention at the time—a cheerful woman with a peculiar way of thinking and living. I remember being fascinated by her stories.
She had told us about truffle hunting, a prized delicacy in gastronomy. Since truffles are wild fungi that grow underground at the roots of oak and walnut trees, finding them is an art in itself—one that requires experience, dedication, and, above all, intuition. Sofia was a truffle hunter. She lived on a farm near a forest. Every year, from August to November, with the help of trained dogs, she would set out in search of these valuable fungi that sprouted unpredictably, like an offering from untamed nature. Once the delicacy was detected, it had to be unearthed with extreme care to avoid damaging it and affecting its price. The best truffle hunters were sought after by the world’s most renowned chefs, eager for the ingredient that could bring an unparalleled flavour to their dishes. A thriving market surrounded the product, with the finest truffles fetching high bids in competitive auctions.
There were no schools for training truffle hunters—it was an innate skill. Sofia had the gift, as if she possessed a machine that produced truffles effortlessly. The rest of the year, she split her time between traveling and writing novels that she never published. She never let anyone read her work, writing only for herself—the stories she wanted to hear—as if allowing herself to be both the creator and the creature of her own imagination. Few women had seemed as fascinating to me. The unusual and the mysterious have a way of captivating. An exotic beauty, both in body and soul. That was Sofia.
That day, however, her sad eyes unsettled me. Her beauty had been blemished. The most important part of her—that which sprang from the depths of her soul, like the precious truffles that secretly emerge beneath the surface—had vanished. She waited until Loureiro placed three mugs of coffee on the counter and then spoke an emblematic sentence: “I’m very angry with myself for only doing things I don’t want to do.”
I shook my head, signalling disbelief in her words. They made no sense to me. How could anything be wrong in a life as interesting as hers, a lifestyle so many people would envy? As if to confirm my thoughts, she went on to say that she loved being a truffle hunter and enjoyed living on her farm. She appreciated the financial independence that came from selling truffles, as well as the autonomy of working for herself. The months she spent traveling brought a welcome contrast to the stillness of home, filling her days with adventure and family. A perfect balance, she said.
Loureiro, the shoemaker, commented: “On the surface, life seems balanced; in essence, however, there is much misunderstanding. You will have to go to the root of the knot that binds you—it is what prevents you from fully enjoying both yourself and life. That is your next journey. Only by untying it will you feel free again. Freedom is moving through life’s days at the final frontier of your truth—without masks, deceptions, lies, or fears.”
The sister said she needed help. She couldn’t identify the source of her dissatisfaction. She had designed a unique way of life, carefully shaping it to meet all the requirements she believed were necessary to be happy and at peace. Nothing and no one would get in her way. She had achieved every goal she had set for herself. For many years, she felt whole and fulfilled. Now, not anymore.
Loureiro furrowed his brows and said: “Ideas and feelings—shaped by personal perception and sensitivity—construct what we call reality, which can shift with a simple change in perspective. Despite adverse conditions, reality must contain the fundamental elements that allow happiness, peace, dignity, love, and freedom to flourish; otherwise, it means we have yet to understand the best possible reality and are therefore wasting it.”
Sofia asked him to explain further. Loureiro gave an example: “Two travellers cross an abyss using the only bridge available. Although they go through the same physical experience, the outcomes will not always be the same. It depends on how each one perceives the journey and what conclusions they draw from it. One might marvel at the beauty and joy of overcoming the obstacle, despite the risks involved, while the other, overwhelmed by fear and tension from the imminent danger of falling, might be traumatized. So much so that, despite having crossed successfully, the frightened traveller may, next time, choose to remain on the edge of the abyss, convinced by fear’s falsehood that stagnation is an impregnable fortress. For one, the experience provided the wings needed to soar beyond obstacles; for the other, it built an enormous and solid wall, trapping them in place forever. There will always be contradictory narratives and conclusions about the same situation. To one, risk and the unknown may be seen as a challenge; to another, an insurmountable barrier. The same experiences create different realities.” He took a sip of coffee and reflected: “Every act of creation within the universe is reflected in the reality of the creature out in the world. Inexorably.”
He added a small clarification: “It is important not to confuse challenges with provocations. Challenges are opportunities for internal growth that push me beyond who I am; in essence, a clear, serene, and healthy relationship with my true self. Provocations, on the other hand, are invitations to inflate vanity and pride, anger and resentment, keeping me from becoming who I could be. They lead to a turbulent relationship with myself and, consequently, with the world, as I struggle to conceal my vulnerabilities and shortcomings.”
He gestured with his hands as if indicating a fork in the road and continued:
“Any situation can present itself as either a challenge or a provocation. It is I who determine the intrinsic principles that will either drive me forward or imprison me.”
The truffle hunter said she understood the concept. She had mapped out every detail of the journey she planned for this lifetime. She had crossed a thousand bridges without ever being stopped by an abyss. She had been happy along the way and had reached her intended destination. She had achieved financial independence, enjoyed the autonomy of having no boss or employees—nor a husband, so she wouldn’t have to conform to someone else’s routines and habits. Occasional romances were enough. She lived in the peaceful solitude of a farm by the forest, surrounded by her beloved books and dogs.
Her children, who had left home early to study and work, were doing well; her grandchildren were healthy. Every year, she visited them. She also travelled to explore new places, revisit old ones, and reconnect with friends. Within the framework she had set for herself, her life was perfect. Yet now, she found herself reluctant to do the things that had once been pure sources of joy. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t pinpoint what it was.
“What was left behind?” Loureiro asked. Sofia said she wasn’t sure she understood the question. Her brother clarified: “In our eagerness to reach our destination, we leave behind valuable treasures. Most of the time, at that moment, we fail to realize their significance. We think we can do without the essence; we understand little about genuine priorities. We chase achievements that, while valuable, are secondary in importance. By reversing these values, the best destinations become unreachable. Nothing essential can be forgotten, or the soul will remain restless. It is important to go back and retrieve what was left behind while there is still time”. Sofia said she didn’t know what she might have left behind. The craftsman commented: “That is the knot tying down your peace and happiness; that is the reason why, at this moment, you feel like an uncomfortable place to live within yourself. It is necessary to find the part that was abandoned; until recently, you didn’t miss it, but now it is crying out to be reclaimed.”
Sofia wanted to know what part that was. Loureiro shook his head: “I have no idea”. He took another sip of coffee and said: “I only know that it exists. Everything that makes us uncomfortable, we try to escape. Everything we believe we cannot attain, we lie to ourselves about its importance. Accepting our mistakes is a beautiful departure point for a fantastic journey toward fulfilment. With maturity, our treasures change. What was once secondary—or even seemed like a burden—becomes gold; not for the pocket, but for enriching the soul. To find the lost piece, you will need: willpower, since desire moves life; courage, to transform through the repentance of past misjudgements; and, finally, self-love—an indispensable commitment to tirelessly seeking the best for yourself.”
Sofia nodded. She knew what her brother was talking about. She added that this was precisely why she was there. She understood that a door existed—one that would allow her to exit the existential labyrinth she had built for herself. There always was. But she couldn’t see it. She admitted she needed help. Loureiro held her hands gently and said:
“It doesn’t matter whether we live on a flower-filled farm far from the city’s hustle or in a small grey apartment removed from the countryside’s tranquillity. The truth is, each person lives within themselves. Everything else is just decoration and scenery. Peace and happiness are personal conquests, only possible when we unravel misunderstandings—the hidden roots from which grow the fungi of fear and suffering, of fragility and imbalance, bitter ingredients that taint the flavour of our daily lives. If I do not build a welcoming place within my heart, I will not be able to enjoy life’s wonders. Every straight road will seem twisted; every colour will appear dull. No one lives well if their mind is clouded, and their heart unsettled.”
Loureiro asked if his sister still maintained her daily routine of meditation and prayer. Sofia replied that she did so every morning. He asked: “During those moments, is there a thought that keeps recurring?”. Sofia said that, lately, images of her children and grandchildren had been appearing in her mind with increasing intensity. Even though she knew they were doing well, she felt a growing concern for her family. Loureiro questioned: “If they are well, why so much concern?”. His sister said she had been trying not to think about them so much, but it was becoming harder. She couldn’t explain why these thoughts were becoming so intrusive during the moments she had reserved to celebrate life with herself. Loureiro warned her: “Do not repress or suffocate these thoughts—on the contrary, embrace them. You are facing an opportunity for healing, for self-understanding, for redrawing your path”. Sofia asked him to explain further. He clarified: “When ignored, the soul dwells in the unconscious. In the rare moments when it can be heard, it speaks to the mind through persistent thoughts, trying to reveal its incompleteness and wounds. When communication becomes impossible, it sends signals of dissatisfaction through the heart—making everything seem wrong, even when everything appears fine. What we lack is what we have yet to understand. Joy vanishes when we fail to see the beauty within us. The days become difficult; small puddles seem as vast as an ocean. We become angry at having to do things we don’t want to do, as you said when you entered the workshop—even when those things are ones we once loved.”
Sofia asked him to continue. Loureiro pondered: “Of all the stories you’ve written, the most interesting in the eyes of the world has been the life you built for yourself. An ideal model, coveted by many, blending irresistible elements like independence, autonomy, and bucolic solitude. What’s wrong with that? Absolutely nothing. Except for what you left behind to achieve your goal.” He placed his coffee mug on the counter, shrugged, and added, “One can live well alone, but no one lives well without love. Loving people is the most sacred and sublime thing there is. Some loves come and go, but others are fundamental. Every life is a story. No two are alike. In your case, I’m referring to your children and grandchildren”. His sister disagreed. She said she visited them once a year. Beyond that, they had their own responsibilities. She needed to be careful not to intrude on their daily routines. She loved them, and they loved her.
Loureiro shook his head and said, “I have no doubt about that. I know the love is there. However, brief visits don’t build strong relationships, just as a few lines are not enough to write a great novel. Love requires presence and intimacy for its roots to grow deep. Otherwise, relationships remain fragile and superficial. That’s what your soul is missing—it’s crying out for that. I’m talking about deep love, the kind that only flourishes when we share joys and challenges, commitments and responsibilities, victories and losses. Love happens in the trivial moments, in seriousness, in conflicts, and in the everyday companionship.” He took another sip of coffee before continuing. “It’s a love that wasn’t accounted for when you designed your lifestyle. It’s time to go after it. This is the door to the labyrinth. This is your next journey.”
A sincere tear rolled down Sofia’s face. She knew what her brother was talking about; he was speaking the truth. Without rush or words, she emptied her coffee mug. Her thoughts sought new shelves in her mind, her feelings rearranged themselves into the drawers of her heart so that, from that moment on, they could be accessed more easily. It was the truffle hunter who broke the silence. She said she didn’t understand how she hadn’t noticed the absence of this before. Loureiro explained, “We are like a complex puzzle of a thousand pieces; the absence of a single piece compromises the whole. There was a time when it seemed that piece was already in place. But it wasn’t.”
Sofia said she had lived her life inside out. Loureiro didn’t let his sister fall into the trap of guilt. “No need for that. Be kind to yourself. Always. Without seeing the puzzle in its entirety, it’s impossible to notice a missing piece. No one can. Maturity gradually allows us to see larger areas of our own construction. This happens in different aspects of life, for everyone. Without exception. There’s no need to curse your journey. In fact, your story is beautiful. What you need is to find a way to recover the love you left behind. Without drama or remorse. Maturity is an important stop on the journey, and to keep moving toward the destination, it requires a recalculation of the route.”
Feeling unsettled, Sofia asked for another coffee. She needed to think. She sipped the drink as she mapped out the practical details of her next journey. The truffle harvest lasted only four months; she would rent an apartment in the neighbourhood where her children and grandchildren lived for the rest of the year. She would take part in their daily lives. For a moment, she feared that her presence might not be welcome—that they had grown unaccustomed to having her around constantly and intensely. Though love was there, living together would require skill to ensure that, amidst the intersection of different personalities and temperaments, harmony prevailed. She feared she wouldn’t be able to handle the challenge.
Loureiro reassured her. “Don’t worry. There may be some initial awkwardness, even small conflicts, but that’s natural when daily life starts to be shared. The worst in each person may come out, but so does the best. Love is sometimes like sweet fruit within easy reach, other times like rare fungi hidden in the deep roots of trees.” He winked at his sister as if sharing a secret and concluded, “You are a truffle hunter; you will know the best way to find it.”
Sofia’s face was soaked in tears. Overwhelmed with emotion, she tried to thank the cobbler, but her lips couldn’t form the words. She didn’t need to. They shared a long embrace. She whispered to her brother, both as a confession and a realization, that not all treasure is buried beneath the forest floor—the most valuable ones remain hidden in the depths of the soul. She added that she would use her idle time in the city, when her grandchildren were at school and her children at work, to write a new novel. This time, she would let everyone read it; without a doubt, it would be her best story.
As she left, her beauty had fully returned. That’s how we feel when we step onto the boarding platform. Life expands with every journey.
Translated by Cazmilian Zórdic.
