ABSTRACT
When I was less than one year old my parents moved from the town where I was born to the city of Río Piedras, where my father studied accounting at the university and where the three of us lived in an old boarding house with an echoing staircase and walls covered with water paint that stained one’s fingers when brushing them against the surface, and rooms with overhangs so high that they appeared to have been constructed to house elephants under the poor solitary light bulb which anointed everything in an oily yellow when turned on. That place would not remain in my memory because I was still very little and because my father completed his studies in less than a year; he obtained a good government job and the family moved again, full of hopes, this time to an urban development. I would remember that other place, since it was there that I spent the rest of my childhood, my adolescence, and the first ten years of my coming of age.
