I was wondering whether you remember that in year 1993 or 1992, you gave me a diary with papers that were scented with rose petals. You told me I could write in it, whatever that was in my mind, no matter how ugly or horrible it was.
You told me nobody would read my diary.
One day you got so mad over something that I wrote (I didn’t accuse you of reading my diary, but I thought you were really good at guessing) so I decided to discard the diary and never write anything anywhere anymore.
Then, you asked, “Where’s your diary?”
I said I misplaced it somewhere. That was probably one of my first lies.