Mum? - I say and grimacing like a clown. What else should I call her? She still gave birth to me. And for seventeen years we lived as one family. Very friendly and loving. So it seemed to me. Until everything collapsed.

She turns around alive. Rapidly. It has always been like that. Constantly on the move. "My sunbeam" - that was her father's name. She is fifty three. But age is given out only by wrinkles around the eyes, almost imperceptible if you do not look closely, and a neck with "annual rings".

The face is smooth. Skin is gorgeous. Hands - girls can envy. Tight. A small sprout....