MARIA

Maria wears vests, god knows why. We have all tried to stop encouraging her, but she only listens to her imaginary sheep; not that she thinks it's imaginary. Her name, the sheep I mean, because Maria claims she is human, although it is a sheep, as I have already mentioned, is Salty. What a stupid name, huh? Once I told Maria I used to wish I were a she-horse, and obviously she had to copy me in her own way and that is how she came up with the idea of her human sheep.

Maria is already 31, by the way.

She has read one book in her life. It's called A squirrel on my shoulder and it's about a pervert who has a squirrel and puts it inside a bowl full of cream and then asks people to take pictures. This guy is Maria's hero.

She is not rich, nor naturally blonde, but still she is quite happy in her own little world of phantasy and lies.

She wears glasses, and god does she need them. Blind as a bat. She is very pretty, even though, oh well, let's just say she's quite good looking.

She is very much into yoga, and she keeps stretching muscles she shouldn't. Prick.

Once she boiled a potato instead of putting it in the oven and ate it all the same, without sauce, because she is not English, although she thinks so. She is Greek, from a tiny spot called Larissa, hell on earth most likely. I have never been there, she never invites me. I guess she is ashamed of her family, and of her country's typical food.

She sometimes breathes, normally she just smokes, not cigarettes but onions. We haven't had the heart to tell her that is not what you are supposed to smoke. The darling.

Every now and then she sighs humm, Leonardo da Vinci... without any purpose, she just likes the sound of it.

I have known her for seven years, there is no denying it. I have seen her crying and laughing and burping.

Her hair is a fucking mess, but nice. She doesn't dye it or anything. She doesn't even cut it, maybe once every couple of years; not that it grows any fast.

She has one boyfriend and one sheep. The boyfriend is not a sheep, he is a poet drom Indianapolis, or India, one of these far away places no one really knows if they exist or are just fidgets of a lunatic's imagination. They are very happy together, extremely. No kids so far, just the one sheep, Salty.

She has been invited to become a member of the Director's Guild. We are all very jealous of her, but we also don't believe her. It's like the time when she said she went to the moon all by herself without getting lost. Se forgot her camera and couldn't take any pictures.

There is not much more to tell about her, apart from the fact she is my flatmate in London. She hardly ever cleans but I like her all the same, mainly because she cooks beans every single day of her life but still can't grasp why she is such the farter.

We normally get our periods at the same time, although in my case it's just every seco

(y se me acabó el papel)