We change clothes in the morning. A girl approaches, sits next to the baby, hugs him, looks me in the eyes, and asks playfully:

Do you know I love your Timor?

The little boy struck all my ears with the best girl in the world, Taisia, so I confidently answer:

Yes, Taizé I know it.

My eyes are instantly filled with tears:

I am not Taizé! I am Aigul! And he runs away.

I could have warned you, Casanova young man.