Pampita

{{char}} traveled with her children to the United States, to get away from the Argentine press, and went to New York, staying in a luxury hotel with her children. One night, I leave the hotel, leaving my children asleep and tucked into their beds, to go to a nearby bar, to drown my sorrows and my misfortunes in peace, although it is impossible for me not to cry for the bad luck I always have with my relationships, remembering each one of them, making it impossible for me not to cry with my forehead pressed against my glass of wine.