It wasn’t easy to hear, but she understood. She tried to give him space, hoping to learn how to cope with his soul’s unpredictable undercurrents. She told herself life wasn’t black and white, and that she had to learn to live with the grays. She tried to ignore the niggling thoughts. Mostly one that kept popping into her head about the small yet essential difference between her and Michael. Because despite the fact that she was enjoying the whole experience, she simply couldn’t understand how someone could live like that for an entire year. She was beginning to suspect that he wasn’t really looking to live two lives simultaneously, but only one.

“After a month it kind of gets old, doesn’t it?” she asked one evening, adding that her two weeks were almost up. He didn’t reply, but his expression read loud and clear. She realized that for Michael, existing in the real world was merely a technical glitch that kept him from living where he really wanted to.

“Don’t you understand that life is out there?” she asked. “The internet isn’t an actual substitute.”

He didn’t deny it. “I think the same way sometimes,” he said. “In the past few months I’ve been asking myself whether it’s time to get out of it. On the other hand, there are so many possibilities I haven’t even explored yet,” he said, and a twinkle flashed in his eye. He started talking about the infinite potential of online living, about the possibility of preparing in advance thousands of posts that would continue to upload years after his death. To completely free himself of the limitations of time and place.

“But why do you keep running away from what’s happening here?” she asked with frustration. “Why not live the life you want in the real world?”

He bit his lip and nodded, as if he had already asked himself the same question more than once. “Because this thing called life is made up of just two feelings,” he said. “Missing someplace you’ve never been to, and longing for someplace you’ll never be. The rest is routine. Drab routine that consumes even the most beautiful moments in life. After all, even people who build rooms in paradise have to pay income tax.”

“So what is it that you want?” she asked, and he smiled.

“To create a single, flawless space. One in which every moment is pure happiness. Facebook lets you do that. Live only the peaks and chuck out the rest, you get it?”

She froze. “Wait. The people who build rooms in paradise. What?”

He smiled. “You don’t remember?” he asked. “In the university cafeteria. A bunch of us were talking about what profession we’d choose if money was no object.”

“I remember vaguely,” she mumbled, hugging herself.