On a Sunday morning I am strolling around San Antonio, when I find a girl I am now courting with her mother. We look at each other; I am glad to see her. She follows me sweetly. We look at each other. We kiss on the lips and I feel an unending pleasure (I have never kissed her on the mouth). I walk next to her, but I see, without paying attention to it, that she becomes something ugly. But then she recovers her beauty and we are together in the Church of the Carmel brothers, hearing 12 o'clock Mass. Another girl goes in with us. When the Mass is over, my friend Bobby tells me I have poor taste. I pay no attention to this. I feel extremely happy.