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In Paris, strolling arm in arm with a casual girlfriend on a late autumn, it seemed impossible to conceive that purer than those golden afternoons, with the smell of chestnuts montuno in the braziers, the languid accordions, lovers insatiable kissing just not ever in the open terraces, however, he had said the hand on heart that he was not willing to change all that for a moment of his Caribbean in April. It was still too young to know that the heart's memory eliminates the bad memories and magnifies the good, and thanks to this artifice we manage to overcome the past. But when she returned to see from the ship's rail white promontory of the colonial district, the motionless buzzards on the roofs, poor clothes stretched out to dry on balconies, only then realized how far had been an easy victim of cheating charities of nostalgia. Gabriel García

Marquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

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Miss Comet and I

At 19 I went to the doctor that I would reveal a fundamental truth. Magnetic Resonance in hand.

- There is nothing to do with the migraine, you'll have to endure long
- Always?
- Until menopause. To relieve the pain there is a new component called Sumatriptan
- OK

Inconforme and, above all, disappointed I left the office. How one of the best specialists in neurology at Caracas was going to say something. Had worse than a migraine support forever. Between 19 and menopause is a lost highway in the distance, anyone who has been young knows. There will be a solution. No way. Typical. One always thinks something like that to something.

During these years, I have unleashed a series of actions to combat my supposed destination, but nothing has worked. Traditional medicine preventively. Sleep cures. Diet without red wine, chocolate, aged cheeses and nuts. Natural treatments. Vacation. Massage. Compulsive buying, when I could. Escapism of psychoanalysis. Doctrines of faith. Moderate exercise. Acupuncture. Do not count the yoga because I could just make two classes and I think I go ahead, following the consistent advice of Ximena.

Meanwhile, I still remember the first time. 12. School party. Crowds, noise, heat. Open bar goodies. Hours and hours without stopping to eat, in the worst sense of the word. Eat sugar. Head exploding into pieces. Thus began the history of migraine and me.

is always the same pain, with different variations.

Francis Bacon. Self Portrait, 1969.