Yani Canetti
   
SOY
ESCRIBO
TENGO
RECUERDO
PIENSO
DIGO
DICEN
HAGO
CONFIESO
COMPARTO
ESTOY
       
  Three Toys a Year
I Hate Books
The Other "Me"
Mess Ups
Mi House, My City
37 Times
They Say Tt...
Bad Worhat I Was Racisds
Unfinished Songs
Oh, Freud
¬°Odio los libros!

When I turned 4 years old, my mother had a brilliant idea of leaving me in a library while she went to the university at night, after working all day.
I library! The largest library building in the whole island, no less. It was convenient as the library was in walking distance from the faculty building where she was studying Chemistry.

I first felt like I had been abandoned at some Medieval orphanage. That place was immense. You couldn't even whisper without getting a bone-chilling "shhhhhh!" from an adult. The seemingly endless bookshelves smelled like the old sweat of mummies.
 
I used to sit quietly at a desk, without making a sound. Without crying. I looked at those books with only the corner of my eye. One Friday, I remember, I got up and took out a large book from one of the shelves. This thing was filled with secret codes. Strange symbols (known by adults as "letters") stuck to one another. Then separated, by dots, by dots and commas, and dot, dot, dots. These were words!, sentences, paragraphs! I shut this thing immediately. Terrified by all that I couldn't understand.
 
"When is my mom coming to get me?" I used to think. "Did she forget about me?, am I going to be left here in this god forsaken place?"

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