บท 158: Boys with transparent tastes

Being born is so damn painful.

First, you are pushed around for hours, pulled by foreign hands and have to leave the warm place that has been your home for months. Then, as soon as you're parted from that comfortable place, you need to breathe.

Lungs start aching, every muscle twitches at its own pace. It becomes unbearable, but you don't know how to fight it.

Until your instinct takes over and you inhale your first mouthful of air. Crying is the only thing imprinted in a new brain, so you don't have any other choice.

It took me days to get over that experience.

When I opened my eyes and saw a woman, a part of my soul recognised her as my nanny. She was the one that took care of me in my first years. My mother couldn't because...

«Oh, no! My Lady!» one of the nurses shouted.

I didn't know how to move my head, so I just gazed at those comforting eyes.

My mother died a few minutes after giving birth to me.