Once upon a time, a little boy named Felipe, just as me, because it was me. Well, I was like 8 or 9 years old. And I had to go to my grandmother's sister's house. I was really bored. I wasn't allowed to talk, to watch TV, to go playing out in the street, to touch the cats. I couldn't do anything, I just had to be stuck in the chair, and in silence. It was overwhelmingly boring. Then, my aunt told me "you can go to the bedroom and take one book". I wasn't really into reading. But, when I realised it would be the only activity I could do that day, I said yes. I went to the bedroom, and there were lots of books, I thought "well, here there should be at least one book I could enjoy", and I gave a glimpse to the bookshelves, and I found a little book, with no more than 150 pages I remember, and with an image of a heart made up of bales. Its title was "Tengo Miedo Torero" and it was written by Pedro Lemebel. I took that one, and I started ...