Ein Koffer voller Habseligkeiten stand an der Tür, fest zugeschlossen wie der letzte Pinselstrich eines
Als ich damals sechzehn Jahre alt war, bestimmte mein Vater, Hans Müller, mein Schicksal. Ich war ein
7July1993 I was handed a newborn who could not hear and, without a moments hesitation, I stepped into
She stood in the cramped kitchen of her modest cottage, phone clutched in trembling hands. Her mothers
Querido diario, 2octubre. Hoy he abierto la puerta rechinante del salón de la Casa de la Cultura del
Trouble came out of the blue. Then again, who ever expects it? It always drops like a heap of snow on
Late evening in a little café on the corner of a side street. The walls are a warm ochre, rain runs lazily
Dont you have a mother any more! my motherinlaw shrieked, the words spilling out like hot tea over a teacup.
Querido diario, Hoy he vuelto a darme cuenta de lo poco que le interesaba a mi suegra, Sofía Arcaya
One. But if you try again So whats this new you? The bellys empty, so its time to get your hands dirty.