I took a picture of the woman who had just passed me and sent it to the German man, who told me that the woman was just sick and that I could not make fun of her.
It was the first time I had ever met a transgender person, and I always thought it was funny, because there was nothing in the law that said men couldn't wear stockings, heels or skirts, and that women couldn't wear fake beards and belts to flatline their chests.
From then on I always deliberately walked on that path until I met the woman again. She also noticed me. She asked me if I was a man or a woman. I told her I was a man. She smiled, exchanged contact information, and on my first date with a German man, I asked him if I could wear a dress and heels the next time I saw him.
He said he was leaving the city, and I could go to him if I wanted to see him, but I wouldn't go to him. Through that woman I got to know another man who, despite his size, had the best face I'd ever seen. After that, he always liked to come to me after work and talk to me, sometimes he would ask me to go to the movies, but I don't like to go to the movies with him, I told him, I'm not a man, but I like women.
When I woke up, it was 12 o 'clock, my lips were dry, my stomach was flat and I didn't have the strength to go to the bathroom. Today, I will take my medical records to the mental hospital for further consultation, and then go to the nearby jewelry market to buy a pair of earrings. I didn't like the doctor very much. He had curly hair and a silly laugh, but all I wanted was sleeping pills. My new neighbor is a painter. I seldom see him go out, but I have visited his room.
He told me that he couldn't always paint the blood thoroughly. I asked him about the subject of the painting, and he told me that it was a man and a woman, a wedding and a funeral. Pulling back the white curtain, I saw a man in a dress with black nail polish, and a woman in a tuxedo, white shirt and black bow tie. This really looks like two people I know, and I thought I could give him some advice on his paintings.
The apartment began to fill up with people, and I could smell the faint glow of pink in the aisles on several floors. I know. It's become a place for sex. I know brothels and sex trafficking are legal in Germany, but where I live, it's illegal. The city has too many people, the bright, the beautiful, the distressed, the depraved. The industry is in a gray area, as long as it's like a rat in a sewer, sneaking out when no one is around and eating.
I never talked to them or rode in the same elevator, and then I changed jobs and lived from one district to another. The transgender woman also deleted my contact information, I was always busy, I was in a bad state of mind at that time, I always suspected that she would hurt me. It was one of my most abject days, living in an impenetrable city village, and now life is getting better. I always remember how I lived, slept and ate in that environment.
Sometimes when I log in SNS and the women in the neighborhood are active again, I know that maybe I've poked the henhouse. I always see messages like this, a photo of a contemporary man's aesthetic, and then strike a voluptuous pose. Then there is talk of price, sometimes euphemistically "paid". I don't know when prostitution and sex education became so white and proud.
I saw a crime movie where a 16-year-old girl and her divorced mother went to another city, where the culture and behavior were very different from where she had lived before. She started making friends and met a male online friend who helped her die. Many movies tell us that tragedy does not happen by accident, but by a premeditated arrangement. I used to think that when a person can be bought with money, she won't be cherished by others. Later, when I like a dirty body, I don't care about his life, who he touches, where he has been. He minded that I had been to Germany and met a German man, especially when he said "Lch Liebe Dich" to me.
But modern society no longer has romeo and Juliet, even if it still exists, I'm afraid it will be tortured by reality into a rotten person. When tragedy becomes a processed practice, everyone wants to quickly end the incident and start their normal life. No one CARES about the source of the tragedy.
In the movie in the skin peeling the plot, the original thin people will have a lot of fat. I don't know what fat looks like, maybe it's as thick as butter. I've been to massage parlors several times, and I don't know if they're in compliance. When the technician asked me to take off my clothes, I told her to leave the room, and when she came in again, she told me to take off my bra, too. She asked me if I was still young enough to go to school, and I told her that I was already at work and that my neck and back were sore from the long hours I had been working, so I came to the store for a massage. She said it was rare for customers to be embarrassed to take off their clothes. She told me that we are all women and our bodies are the same.
My mom told me that, too. I remember living with my family as a kid to save them time waiting for the shower. She asked me to take a bath with her, but I didn't want to, and then she said I came out of her stomach, and she had seen me. I always felt uncomfortable, and as I grew younger my body changed, it was different than it had been as a baby, which made me feel offended, and there was a sense of sexual harassment, and it was more that I didn't like the ketone bodies of middle-aged women.
Before I moved to live in wild mountains, used to live together to rent a house, four rooms a hall, the room with a balcony is cut off with the living room. When my family was concerned about my harmony with my roommates, I didn't tell them that I was living with three boys. I couldn't see the hair falling out in the bathroom, and they took a quick shower, and then when I moved out, the guy who liked to play basketball told me he'd always wondered why I wasn't on my period. I have a lot of questions, he said he never saw the package of sanitary napkin in the trash can of the bathroom at home, I told him because I got rid of it by myself, and every time I used the bathroom, I used disinfectant to disinfect the bathroom.
He thought I was weird and mysterious, like wearing a pair of high-top converse shoes under my suit skirt. Sometimes he would wear a suit with jeans. I asked him if he looked that good. "It looks beautiful," he said.
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