" podes vir comigo, eu moro perto" - declarou ele, fazendo-me sinal para eu o seguir. Parafraseado Charles Bukowski, "morrer não é ruim. Estar perdi...o é que é ruim", e perdida era como eu me sentia, por isso fui atrás dele. À medida que íamos caminhando, a minha insegurança ia crescendo gradualmente. "para onde estamos a ir?" Indaguei já com o nervosismo na voz. "vamos por um atalho. Este local é perigoso para damas como tu ." - Argumentou ele. Entre começar uma discussão e ver onde aquilo ia. When Reina was four, her brother, Patrick Paul came along, and we called him Paul. Paul had the most delicate features and exquisite, long golden curls. I cried the first time they were shorn. And it did not surprise me when Angela told me all the little boys at daycare wanted to kiss him all the time. He was awfully sweet and loving. When he got a little older, Paul’s distinction became even more apparent, as we discovered his inclination to join Reina and me in our tea parties, make-up. More

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