I remember when we said Special Period in the house; Mari put a pretty weird face, opened her big eyes and remained pensive for a while. What a thoughtful little girl we have, Jorge told me. But that seemed to me very strange and one day I asked Mari, who was about five or six at that moment, why do you stay there looking rarely with that face every time someone says Special Period? She opened her big eyes, I remember, as if I were again conjuring the unnamable, and noted: Doesn’t that is the same that you have in your knickers when you get your period, Mommy? Then it was me who opened widely my eyes and kept myself thinking without saying anything, of course, it was clear that it was not the same, the same issue of loss and natural cycle of a process and pain and sequelae. Jorge was an electrical technician in the hospital and I worked as an auditor. People always give you away presents for you, in return, not to tell things that were not really serious but that could fuck anyone's salary. Sometimes they gave me bread with ham or sausage for lunch...