“How did you become such an avid reader?”

“You won’t believe me if I tell you.”

“Try me.”

“Until I was twenty-eight, I’d never picked up a book in my life outside of school. And I had a speech defect: I stuttered. I had a very bad stutter. You know, a stutter can ruin your life.”

I nodded. Then I realized he couldn’t see me.

“Yes, I can imagine. But you speak perfectly,” I said. As I said it, though, I thought of his cautious way of speaking, the way he handled the words with care.

“After a while, I couldn’t take it anymore. I went to see a speech therapist, and I took a course to get rid of my stutter. During the course we read books aloud.”

“And that’s how you got started?”

“Yes, that’s how I discovered books. I finished the course, but I kept on reading. People say everything happens for a reason. Maybe I stuttered because I was meant to discover books. I don’t know. But now my life is completely different from the way it used to be. I can’t even remember how I used to spend my days.”

“Well, that’s a great story. I wish something like that would happen to me.”

“What do you mean? Don’t you like to read?”

“No, no, I love it. It’s probably my favorite thing. What I meant was I wish my life would change in some fantastic way like yours did.”

“Oh, I see,” he said. We were quiet as the car sped along the bus-and-taxi lane of the Via Ostiense.

We made it all the way to Piazza Cavour without hitting traffic once. My friend the book-reading cabbie stopped the car, turned off the ignition, and turned around to look at me. I thought he was about to tell me how much I owed him. I reached for my wallet.

“I’m reminded of a Paul Valery quote.”

“Yes?”

“It goes something like, ‘The best way to make your dreams come true is to wake up.’ ”