Zolan didn’t shave. Not that he wanted to look like Hulk Hogan reinventing the business, a bad guy growing the black beard. He was not even tired of shaving. Simply he never got into the daily habit of shaving. Once a week was good enough for him. Zola had a beard that he trimmed once a week. Or maybe he actually shaved it off every morning to grow his facial hair to the exact same length each day. Zolan guessed it was not for free. He couldn’t picture Zola trimming his beard himself. Just like he couldn’t imagine what he would have looked like without it. Maybe he didn’t like himself without a beard. Or maybe he knew some of us wished they could grow a beard and rub their chin and look older. Zolan looked older because of his beard, and he liked it. Jean Cocteau once said there is always a period when a man with a beard shaves it off. But this period does not last. He returns headlong to his beard. Zolan would have agreed with Cocteau. Once a bearded dude, always a bearded dude, despite the grey. Obviously, he wanted to look like the guy on the Dos Equis commercials. Less risk to be stopped at the border. He didn’t want to be the world’s most interesting man in airports. But he also had to be realistic, a beard was no longer the sign of kindness and confidence. Aulus Gellius used to criticize young minds by saying I see the beard and cloak, but I don’t yet see a philosopher. In other words, to be a philosopher meant to have a beard. It was no longer the case, Zolan thought. But he didn’t mind, he wasn’t a philosopher anyway. He wasn’t a writer either. Zolan was kind of a stupid name, and it had nothing to do with Zola. But it could, given the right lighting. Zolan didn’t know much about Zola except for his motto written in golden letters and his beard. I guess for him it was enough to picture himself as a writer. He had nothing to do with his time, writing seemed easy enough. But it had to be quick and worth it. The book he was going to write had to be a bestseller, and the bestseller a movie.