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Epilogue – For the One Who Reads
Perhaps you wonder if it really happened.If a mole with sunglasses traveled through places not on any map. If a bus stopped, with no destination, and if a book wrote itself. Maybe it was just a story. Or maybe it was more. Because sometimes, while you read, something begins to glow inside you. Something small, moving, without noise. A word. A memory. A silent wish. And that's what remains. Mollie made his journey. Not to arrive. But to remember what had been forgotten: that every path begins long before you set out. That stories aren't invented — they're found. And who knows: maybe somewhere there's a map waiting for you too. One made of light and ink. Maybe your heart has long been carrying an empty book with a golden cover.
And maybe, just maybe, you're already on your way. Then read on. Or write. Or go. Because every story begins with the first step.
And sometimes the first step is just to listen quietly.