It was in 1996, four or five months after my father died. Maybe I'd better start with that death, for that ending. I do not know. At that time my father was my enemy. I was twenty years old and I hated it. Now I think hating it was unfair. My father did not deserve that hatred. I do not know if he deserved love, but I'm sure he did not deserve that hatred. Drawings: Javiera Hiault-Echeverría