Janeiro

ing a living through practicing medicine while occasionally enjoying a social life. My life was enriched by the presence of my two best friends, who, like me, w

one passion that kept me away from books: samba. Even during the demanding periods of mandatory internships and throughout my residency atte

this specialization came from witnessing a heart problem that my father

***

ift and three surgeries throughout the day, I was finally able to

Observing my passion for the craft, they too were drawn to the same path. The truth is that I see an operation as a way to he

ld, we had happy hour on the waterfront. However, that day, without knowing exactly why, I wanted my house. The food I made, and the

something into my head, it had to be

ont, to any bar we see ahea

r or a virus. The shift and three surgeries, one after the other, exha

lia

's my na

ill go to the samba circle. Your body, even when exhausted, seems to forget all its tiredness when you hear a tambourine or tambourine.

I have a virus because my body is sore all

nding to be annoyed, and kissed them both on the cheek. I got in the car and went straight home. On the

y at the hospital when the two ambulances arrived. That day, I despaired. I needed to have confidence not to interfere in the procedures; It was suffocating, and I even hurt my arm. It didn't help; a day later, he buried Dad. In the early hours

, my dad. The point was sold to another owner. The four-story building, which he built for us to live in and to generate rental income, was built by Dad. I lived on the first f

ere for over 20 years, treated me like a beloved daughter. He was the doorman, and she played the role of caretaker. They lived in a small building at the back of the building. Their two children had been raised there, and although they are curren

reception, even though

José. Is there any c

I haven't seen her

es

ong time, I would say a long, long time. He didn't even get up to take a drink of water. I found the situation strange, but I also realized that he was wealthy. His sui

who i

ieve that the English you taught me wasn't suff

rean. Straight, black hair, around forty years old. His expression was serious, yet at the same time, j

why he wanted to ta

think I need more English classes. I didn

ut who he is and wha

probably a secret agent trying to arrest you, so I'll have t

y across the lobby to the leather sofa by the

r me?" I asked as I approached th

f sophistication. Every gesture, every movement conveyed a sense of na

efore me carried an undeniable distinction, someth

sked who I was. I think he t

, despite never having set foot in South Korea. He taught me the language, and at home, he spoke to me only in his mother tongue