With the stories badly told, the maps badly folded, and the lights less bright. But I wanted to meet you, to taste you, to remove the blindfold that covered me, the prejudices that invaded me. The flirting began, I finally met you.

I don't know when it happened. One day I woke up and my back started to hurt. The moans escaped me more and more frequently; when I got out of bed, things on the floor seemed unreachable. I began to lose muscle mass, and my hair turned gray and thinned.