“But some are crazy”, he says.

“In what way?”, I ask.

They [the women] bother me. Hit on me, he explains.

And I look at him on the iPhone screen. From my room in Buenos Aires.

I look at his high cheek bones and the irresistable gentleness his innocence has left on his face.

I tilt my head and tell him, with the softness and the understanding of the women that comes straight from my heart and my own experience;

“Because you are very beautiful. That’s why the women bother you.”

And he blushes, his cheeks go red and I understand how unaware he is of how beautiful he is.


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