I’ve always been moved and affected by music and art. The first time I heard the song Don’t Cry For Me Argentina from Evita, I was devastated.
I was 5 years old, sitting at the breakfast table, everyone yelling at me to finish my cereal and get ready for school. But I couldn’t move. I just sat there, tears welling up in my eyes, unable to eat for the lump in my throat, and a pain in my chest I didn’t understand.
I couldn’t go to school that day. My heart was aching. I spent most of the morning crying in bed.Â I cried for Argentina.
I just didn’t understand how everyone could carry on with their day when there was such sadnessÂ in Argentina.
Was also one of the first times my parents called a ‘man of the cloth’ to perform one of their “exorcisms” because I was obviously touched by the devil.
Ah those kooky religious people…Â The veryÂ epitomeÂ of hate and hurtÂ in my world.