When I saw my mom crying for the first time.
"Until that moment, truth had been very clear to me, held and dictated by maternal and paternal wisdom, indubitable, glossy and transparent like a glass marble. Up until that moment, the world had been divided into good and evil, my parents the referees, I, Flavio, Nico, and the other kids rookie players. Breaking a bike, or eating radioactive pistachios, triggered the fear that the world would end, that this time there would be no forgiveness by the beholders of truth, love and justice, until the accident was forgotten and everything went back to normal. But on that late August afternoon, my mother’s tears tore the illusion, defeated the magic, and cracked the perfectly smooth surface of the mirror that for years told me who I was. If Mom was lost, who was gonna find ME?"
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