EZRA
I observe the mess made throughout the house and exhale feeling defeated, because there is nothing, absolutely nothing that can give me a clue as to what is really going on here, I could not find any document, photo or any type of object from which to obtain the slightest bit of information, but, that is what makes everything even weirder, how is it possible that there is nothing related to my birth? And why is there no document with the name of my father or my mother?
This doesn’t even seem like the house in which a family has lived like any other for so many years, it rather seems more like a hostel where we are simply passing through, so much so that if we left today the only evidence that we really lived here would be our messy clothes in the closet, and dirty dishes in th
