Recuerdos:
En Buenos Aires, mi mama con su saco de cuero negro, largo y tambien botas. De mal humor. Yo (de 4-6 anios) le senialaba cosas y le preguntaba
-Te gusta?-
una y mil veces
Hasta que mi mama explota y me dice
-Dejame de preguntar que me gusta y que no!-
Como puede ser que mi mama despreciace tanto amor?
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seremos así las madres?
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