There once was a man who, when he got up in the morning took so long to find his clothes, at night, almost did not dare to sleep, just thinking about what awaited him when he awoke.
One night he took paper and pencil and, as she undressed, I was writing the name of each item and the exact place where the left.
The next morning she took the paper and read: "underpants ..." and there they were. Put them on. "Shirt ..." I was there. He put it well. "Sombrero ..." I was there. And he clapped on the head.
I was really happy, until a horrible thought struck him: "What about me? Where am I?".
had forgotten to write it down. Of So he began to look and look, but in vain. Could not find himself. Story
Martin Buber.
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