texts: Blanca...a rubio like you.  I see her in a dress...an old photograph from Lucinda somebody's wedding...everybody is with couples.  Husbands and wives.  They all pose.  My mother is alone because my father had to go back to the fighting.  ...she looks right into the camera. She is the most beautiful woman in the room.  By herself.  In a party dress.  And she looked like she knew she would die alone...  She spoke many languages.  We were in Luanda when she died.  I went to her friends in Mali.  They sent me to the Ecole Polytechnique in Geneva to study mathematics, where I met Montoya in the discos.  He had banking there...I was seventeen and very much into the clubs.  And he sent me to University for an MBA in Finance.  Your mother?
labels: Died in childbirth, having me...