La primera mujer que amé tenía pétalos de flores en el pelo y cuando alguien la dolía lloraba lágrimas dulces. Tocarla no era fácil, su piel quemaba y ardía y derretía todo objeto que tocara. En las manos tenía imanes y en el pecho un escudo. Con los pies podía flotar y yo flotaba al verla. Era fuerte como el viento que corre cerca del mar y suave como mis guantes de terciopelo.
La primera mujer que amé no supo que yo la amaba.
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