When I sit down after dinner, as satisfied as I tired, I ask myself: “what if …?”And suddenly, in the dew of my naked imagination, some story is born, wicked.

Cuando me siento después de cenar, tan satisfecha como cansada, me pregunto: “¿y si …?”
Y de repente, en la rocío de mi imaginación desnuda, nace alguna historia, torcida.

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