Insanity.

She wasn’t interested in pretending to be expected; Insanity was her safety. She wasn’t paying any attention to how things would end; she could start repeatedly at every moment.

Any moment of silence was a waste of time for her. She had many stories to share, stories that sounded like ideas. And every time she shared, it was better than the previous one. Always something new, something messy, reckless, and wild. And the passion and how her body translates her words, the movements, and the flow.

You felt so free next to her that you could be yourself, but almost no one wanted to be themselves. Once she realized that, she started having fun. She can make everyone uncomfortable and, at the same time, talk about how awkward you feel, and she always hugs the people who pass that stage. She loves making people mad, ‘‘only then can you meet what they are thinking,’’ she said once when I pointed it out to her. She wasn’t afraid of anything, but rather that people would trust her; she hated being trusted, and every time I had the opportunity, I whispered to her ''I trust you''.

I made her a Negroni that she never asked for. She looked at me and remained silent after the first sip, ‘‘That was a good reason to be silent.’’ she said and started talking again. Even if