This book is not hostile to you, nor does it outbid you, nor does it want to make you stressed, nor does it intend to open some of your wounds, nor to publish in your face a newspaper full of accusations that stir up feelings of anger in you, nor is it blind to the atmosphere in which you may live that makes it difficult for you to offer your best; it is whispers to you, as if from the mouth of an old man who met you by chance on a sofa in a park and you complained to him about some of your concerns, so he began to whisper them to you scattered, so a feeling of sonship towards him revived in you even if you did not believe that everything he said suited you, but you loved his tone, the expressions on his face, and his sincerity towards you as he spoke with a reassured heart and a trembling hand.