Do you really think you can read out my mind?" she asks me, face to face.
"I think so," I say, wishing to convince myself. "There has to be a way."
"It is like looking for lost drops of rain in a river."
"You're wrong. The mind is not like raindrops. It does not lose itself among other things. If you believe in me at all, than believe this: I promise you I will find it. Everything depends on this."
"I believe you," she whispers after a moment. "Please find my mind.

Autore: Haruki Murakami