I smoked my first cigarette with my best friend, Myriam, when I was twelve years old. We shared it high up in her treehouse – after we gained permission from our parents, of course. Because that’s how we rolled. We had wondered for ages how …
I clearly remember the day I started to care about what others think of me. I was a lanky eight-year-old, fearless and free of concern. During recess, my classmates and I were playing catch. One of the catchers chased me; thanks to my long legs …
‘Do you still love me?’ There it was, the question I’d been asking myself for a while now. Coming from his brain, in his voice. I wanted to brush him off, to assure him that, of course, I loved him. But I overcame the urge …