// Behind the scenes. A photo and the story behind it!

We got together when I was twenty. Five years later, my first daughter was born, and then two more children arrived at five-year intervals. We had the family house, the dog, the cat, a shared business, holidays — everything according to schedule. On our tenth anniversary, we even got married. From the outside, it looked like an easy life. Could it have been? I do not know where I was for those twenty years. Even now, looking back, I cannot find myself in them.

I was never an average child or an average woman. My creativity, my ear for languages, my sensitive nose — which cannot tolerate even the faintest trace of an unpleasant smell — and of course my determination have brought me to where I am now. And I do not mean financially. I am 51. I do not own a flat or a house. I do not have children.

Sunday morning, the day after. I am leaning over the sink, scraping yesterday’s smeared party makeup from my face. I was tired inside and out when I came home, so I did not bother washing it off. I simply curled up between the cold pillows. The bed was cold too, although I knew it could have caught fire within a minute if I had come home with Him instead of alone. But I did not. And however miserable and lonely I feel right now, I am happy. I look proudly into the mirror,

They say that when a new soul arrives, another soul leaves. In 2014, I met a man and we fell in love almost immediately. We soon moved in together. After a year and a half, we married. Those were extraordinarily happy years. I can honestly say that I had never before experienced such long-lasting happiness across almost every area of my life. Of course, sometimes when one part of life works beautifully, something else begins to fall apart. In my case, that was my family.

There are many stories in my life that shaped me and helped make me who I am today. Not all of them are positive, but each one taught me something. The story I am about to tell stands out because it influenced many of my later decisions. My parents always kept me inside what I would call a “bubble of love”. Our family functioned beautifully. For a long time, I was quiet, gentle and desperate to please everyone. Eventually I learned to let go of that compulsion.

Twenty-five years ago, I ended my first marriage. Fortunately, I remained on good terms with the father of my children. The apartment stayed mine. I exchanged it for another property, which then stood empty. Later I met the love of my life. We married and moved into a beautiful large family house. Everything was fine. And yet, after several years, my mood began to deteriorate. Physical symptoms appeared too. I could not understand why.

It was 10 March, an ordinary afternoon. Looking through the window, I could see light rain falling when a new message appeared in my chat. It was from a footballer I had always found attractive. I loved football. I had played it myself as a girl and had made many male friends through the sport. We talked for hours. Then we met. It quickly became clear that we were very different.

The music is pounding. Another festival. Front row. Hi, I know the DJ. Hi, I know that guy. Cute guy. Hi, I know that guy too! Another vodka orange, please. Can I buy you one? Hell yes, it’s a party! Want to dance? I’m in! Want something? Vodka orange. Can I get your number? Sure! 7562. Facebook friend! “Sweetheart, are you coming home this weekend?” “Yes, Mum, but only Sunday early afternoon. There’s a party Saturday.” “Again? You didn’t come last weekend either because the

I never thought this story would ever be written down, but I need to get it out of me. Perhaps it will help someone, or at least make a few people stop and think. How did I not get breast cancer? It all began a few months ago when I changed jobs. As usual, I had to complete the standard occupational-health checks: a chest screening and an appointment with the company doctor on a Thursday.

The world of women could fairly be called one of the most mysterious forms of chaos in the universe — at least from a man’s point of view. It is true that women can pay attention to several things at once and distinguish shades between black and white, yet even we do not always fully understand the processes of our own minds. Deep inside us live countless suppressed emotions and unspoken thoughts that make us even more mysterious.