Where does that mouth come from?
One of the things my parents, to my great luck, succeeded in was making me feel really special. Not particularly, understood in any negative way, but more as something unique. I do not really know why, but from the beginning, they got what was shared by me, which stuck out and which could have been experienced as something bad, turned into something good. To something that just made me who I could be proud of. My mother has always thought that I have a princess’s mouth and that she herself has what she calls a frogmouth. This princess’ mouth could not, of course, come from her. Instead, it became a beautiful and unique little secret I carried around that very nicely symbolized my lack of genetic knowledge. Things were as they were, I had a donor who I did not know who was and what it looked like. And even though it was not deprivation, it was something that at times filled my consciousness and my thoughts. Not in such a way so that I had a burning need to know what he looked like. But more that I made inner notions in my head about what I might have had that resembled him. It’s not because I’ve ever thought of him as looking a certain way, he’s always been very diffuse. But these little stories made me feel special. I was not like everyone else, I was unique and unique was something good.