You told me you played soccer. Could eat two plates of Kobe sizzlars all by yourself. Were scared of horror films, threw stones from your second storey window at people walking down the street, the street dogs alike. Hated gooseflesh on your skin. Liked poetry and women with round bottoms. Found books boring and mushrooms gave you rashes. Liked the smell of the sea and a lot of chilli in your food.


P.S: I tricked you into eating mushrooms once, in the dumplings that my mother served. I hoped you would catch an allergy and a disease and die of it eventually. And I never had to see you again…