Thank you, Holy Child of Atocha, for your favors. I was talking with Mariana about our decision to live together. We were staying near the cabaret where she worked and where we had met each other. Suddenly I felt acute pain in my chest. It was the Mariana’s ex-pimp who shot me. But thanks to the saint the bullet didn’t hit the heart but split my collarbone. After that I asked at my work to transfer me to Monterrey where we started our new life.
Monterrey, Nuevo Leon, 1962