The Swiss sailor eyed the backpackers. I watched him as I scrubbed the burnt cheese from the back of the microwave. He sized up a girl near the kettle, ‘Are you French?’ His voice was as smooth as chocolate, ‘I am headed that way.’
You were born naked. Pink and screaming, covered in amniotic juices. The nice midwife and doctor washed your bare skin. They wrapped you up tightly and handed you to your mother. That was your first naked public appearance.