Confessions of a Chain Maybe she made many mistakes in her life, mistakes that she later assumed by accepting her destiny as she drew it even if it hurts now that life wanted it differently, but... She lived from mistake to look for true love, slipping from one trial to another, loving her demons in her, who led her from here to there, tasting the curses of the deceived wives she looked down on, deceiving herself into the face of fate that love is something sublime with a carnal scent felt to the touch and not in the soul.But there comes a time when in front of death you present yourself with the board of your life ended without being able to delete something or add something else to your liking because it is too late and every moment that gives you the right to choose is a unique fact and not he returns to be able to change something of destiny, being like a traffic light at an intersection of life, which does not forget to play the book you drew from a pack of cards that does not indicate your manual use of the game and deceive you in your choices.You perceive how love stands and looks at you from a dark or lighted angle and sucks you out of your life making you feel like an hourglass, being just like a tiny thread of sand twinned by a hug with the other threads of sand built in the envelope of time that flows only in a certain direction, to the other side of the hourglass where life is the afterlife and where you can not change anything from the past than to enjoy as a silent spectator your past as a directed film.It is as if in front of love you present yourself naked on the outside, believing that a fleeting caress will caress your fine skin, forgetting that deep sensations are born first in the heart.In the face of love and death you are a helpless soul in which you slip like a good or bad child depends on the emotion lived in your life that directed your film, but still, try to live as you feel or let yourself be led by circumstances.Emanuela... the restless little girl showed the world her rebellion which was like an effervescent tablet, where she overturned all the shyness that once crocheted her and hid her well from the eyes of the world, which can only criticize and judge.She slipped many times between the bedding of other women where the lust for love seized her on the couch of orgasm that often darkened her mind, breaking up marriages only to satisfy her hunger to be loved and desired, Emanuela reckless child and eager for adventure.She often confused the happiness of the pure soul with the desire to be a stop for the manhood of a man who handcuffed his thighs and declared her eternal love that lasted as long as a passing pleasure.She lived her life on the edge of fantasy between the silk sheets, enjoying for a moment what was not hers, stolen and lost adventures in the mirage of the hot nights that warmed her heart to make her feel that she was living intensely and that she is desired.She spiced her life believing that the eternal is won by battles fought for petty lusts embalmed with the fancy spices lived under the dome of sex and not of divine love.She was the woman who made her rules in love like a rebellious bitch looking for empty bodies, not souls, in which to pour the bitterness of a hungry heart that cannot fight her lustful pet desires. The obsession with her first love followed her to eternity because she did not fully fulfill her act of love when she was only eighteen.Memories followed her throughout her life, now hanging by a thread from the tumult of her cadet soul. A sensitive rope that broke when she left everything behind and kicked the life she built with someone else until Facebook got in the way of the face of her first crazy love in high school and when she had everything on her plate and was about to marry ....