I wanted to know what you meant when he proclaimed that he had no shame or had known. I got to test your judgments about my supposed lack of modesty. What the hell you'd know if you did not know me or the minimum approach beyond your prejudices about the precariousness of the values \u200b\u200band honor today. And yet, I always found fun trying to secretly rebel against your prudish outlook on life.
discovered my own body through a classmate in sixth grade, when at recess we would hide in the bathroom of the girls and still far from a definite sexual desire, we filled the border feeling something like freedom.
Some years later, I watched through the window of the bathroom, how they showered a neighbor's house front, while you rush I got from the kitchen for me to sit at the table.
time the cousin Juan asked me to teach him to kiss with tongue, I had broken some hearts and rehearsed over a plunging neckline, and I will not talk now, grandma, my first time, because even though you just die I do not think you have the body to great turbulence.
Yes I can say that none of those silly stories that I have served as allies in the adventure of growing, and I repeat, no, I came to feel truly transgressive. I have never lived up to my claims challenging, and I noticed that conquer the off-limits for your moral. Then I do not know, exactly what those notions of modesty and decency and modesty of which escaped me at your convenience. Somehow, my confusion does not stop to confirm that you were right, Grandma, I have no shame nor have ever met.
But what things go, Granny. In my twenty years, knowing that you are empty of life, my thoughts crash against the glass partition to which you watch all the family, I've been hit by a horrible obscenity. Nothing to do with your rusty moral standards. Today I learned that, no matter what the shame that you mean, there is another quite obvious: the necessary dignity that demands our recollection which has been ...
And, silly me, I can not help thinking, but who has painted you well, Grandma? Who has left as a fucking door? Who has decided exhibirte already dead with the case open and a look that is not yours? Who are you and why you want to stay as the last image you see my grandmother?
The most shocking is that the rest of the family seems determined not to notice. That, and I can not stop looking at your coffin uncovered traces of you looking at that face. I have no shame nor have ever met.
How absurd that you had to die for me to realize the time I have lost midiéndome with something as volatile as the assault.
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