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would she have known that I was looking for information on this subject?” I could not get over my astonishment, but even more so when I read on the pamphlet, “Pilgrimage to Fatima.”

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      Now, being here with Pilar, uncertain about what she was going to show me, I asked her:

      “How do you find out about any new information?”

      “I’ve been working on this for many years, so I know all my counterparts, and if there’s a new one somewhere, I try to visit them and become friends with them, that way I know that when something comes to them about the topics they know interest me, well they let me know straight away,” she said quietly.

      “And what subjects are those that interest you?” I asked at that moment.

      “Shhh!” she said. “You’ll see it now.”

      She went to a bookshelf and took down what she wanted, so determined that I was sure she already knew that it was there. We both went to the reading area and after sitting, I looked curiously at what was written on the book she had just taken, which read: “Latest Research on Fatima.”

      “Oh, so you’re still researching the topic?” I asked a little surprised.

      “And you’re not?” she returned the question. “Surely you haven’t dropped it, am I wrong?”

      I put on that half smile, as if I had been caught out. I answered:

      “Sure, I never dropped it.”

      “I already knew you hadn’t changed. When you start with something you like, you never leave it,” she said, approaching me so I could hear her properly, because she spoke to me very quietly.

      We spent a good while there reading, the time that remained until closing time. We went for a walk when we left. Even though it was a little chilly, we went to the Plaza do Obradoiro.

      When we arrived, Pilar stood there in the middle. I watched her, not understanding anything of what she was doing.

      “Why have we come here?” I asked at that moment.

      “Each stone contains its secret,” she told me very seriously, pointing to the Cathedral.

      I didn’t understand what she meant by that and I asked her:

      “Pilar, what do you want to tell me? I don’t understand any of this.”

      She got very serious and answered:

      “Time erases everything, but there are secrets that need to be to recovered and spread.”

      I still wasn’t understanding anything and I asked her to please clarify it for me.

      “Who built it?” she asked me suddenly.

      “Well, they say…”

      “No!” she said and didn’t let me finish. “That might be who ordered it to be built; who paid for the construction; who controlled this territory when it was built, or was it simply someone later, who said, ‘Isn’t this lovely! This is mine,’ but truly, who built it? What man spent his time chipping at the stone for hours and hours for someone else to then claim it? And it could possibly have been someone else entirely who built it here. We’ll never know that, but despite our ignorance, here it is, one stone resting on another, and in turn supporting another, thus forming the entire structure, which seems monumental, but they are simply that, a collection of stones performing a function.”

      As she had been saying that, she’d approached the wall and touched that stone she was talking about with her hand and continued:

      “How many drops of rain have fallen on it in the time it’s been standing here? How many hours of sun has it had to endure? And here it is, standing firm where they placed it, without moving despite the inclemency of the weather. How much has it experienced? We’ll never know.”

      I continued listening to her, but without understanding anything she was saying to me, why was she talking about a stone like that? I was perplexed until I said:

      “Hang on! Sorry Pilar! You lost me a while ago, what are you getting at? What are you trying to say? I don’t understand.”

      Taking a breath with resignation, she said:

      “We all have to be like that, be in the place they have put us, and comply fully with what they entrust to us.”

      “But what do you mean? Who puts us? Look, when I leave my house there’s no one to tell me whether I should turn to the right or to the left, I do what I want,” I was saying.

      She interrupted me to ask me:

      “Are you sure?”

      “Yes!” I affirmed emphatically, but I was a little confused. How strange it was! Surely she wanted to tell me something but didn’t dare to, that’s why she was making so many detours.

      I felt the cold already starting to bother my throat a little, so with a distracted motion, I raised the collar of my jacket. Tightening her coat at that same moment, she said:

      “Yes, we have to leave it for another day, if we’re not going to catch a cold.”

      “No, wait, no!” I said. “You can’t just leave me hanging like that, you have to tell me what this is all about.”

      “Look!” she answered, watching me, “if you’re not busy on Monday, let’s meet at this same spot at five, does that work for you?”

      “Monday? Why not tomorrow, it’s Friday? How can I wait that long?”

      “The rest of the days are impossible for me, and I think it will be good for you to think about all this a bit, so you’ll surely understand why I told you about it,” she said very seriously.

      Turning around, she left purposefully, but I overtook her and said:

      “Wait! I’ll walk you to your house. It’s too late for you to be going alone.”

      “I always go alone, I’m used to it, it’s better that we separate here, at this place, and it’ll be here where we’ll meet again on Monday, at five o’clock on the dot, don’t forget,” she said to me.

      I stayed there for a while, watching as she walked away down Rúa de San Francisco. I turned around, approached the wall of the Cathedral, and touched the stone she had touched, as if to understand what she had been saying to me.

      I was there for a few moments, then I withdrew my hand saying to myself, “If someone sees me, they’ll wonder… what am I doing?” but looking around the square I saw that I was alone, that everywhere was deserted and I touched it again.

      I waited a moment, suddenly I saw something that I didn’t understand, it was a field. I looked closer, and it was as if I were getting closer to it, I saw some men who were working. I was very surprised. They were chipping at stones, some big piles, they made them into equal sizes, it didn’t seem difficult for them and they seemed happy.

      I didn’t understand it, suddenly it was all gone, I stopped seeing it, it disappeared as quickly as it had come.

      I looked all around me in surprise, there was no one there, I was alone in that empty square, I didn’t understand a thing.

      I had no idea what had just happened so I started walking, and leaving that place, I went home at a brisk pace so I could warm up, since the temperature had dropped, and there was a cold breeze that left my face frozen.

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      LÚCIA, the seer of Fatima, had she died on May 31, 1949 at the Institute of the Sisters of St. Dorothy in Tuy? Or on February 13, 2005, at the convent of Santa Teresa in Coimbra?

      That was what the documents that fell into my hands that day were about. It was a surprise, I had never found anything like them, I had to study them thoroughly. This was unheard

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