Nothing makes you start living your life like seeing a body lying in front of you without the person that inhabited it in it. Eyes from which the soul moved out. Motionless fragility decomposing in front of you.

My father was negotiating with the creator for a long time. Years were passing and he was proving again and again that he will win over death, over God. Operation after operation, less and less of his body was coming back home until one day several bags were hanging out of him to make it possible to have just a little more time. The last operation was experimental. No guarantee, no responsibilities. No care provided. The time he gained was spent in agonising pain, desperation and loneliness. I watched him having long silent conversations with God those days. His one and only bitter enemy...

When God decided to challenge me, for some reason, understandable only in a far future, he introduced me to my husband on a mysterious November day. It was one of those days when life felt almost too vibrant to bare…

Pain was my most faithful partner so far. I could count on it at any given moment. It didn’t come to me in a simple form, which you could locate and name it but as a condition given to me in heritage - Migraine.

The pain of existing. The mystery, the phantom, the aura, the loss of boundary between me and space, smell, and sound around. A total loss of life-force. Being stuck in an endless moment before death…