Dear friend.
I became a writer. My book was translated into 20 languages. Now, I am a successful man with a bright future. Wherever I go my readers spend hours waiting for me to sign an autograph for them. They wait to ask me their questions about my book, and I read for the parts from it.
Every time I go to a library, to the theatre, or where I have the meeting. I wake up in the morning and I look at the mirror, and I say " I am absolutely anything without the money you gave me that day. I am a writer because of you dear friend." I feel so sad that I can not find my friend. I have heard when I went to our village that he moved, but no one knows where exactly. All I want is see him...