The prison in Buenos Aires was damp. The dim light of a faint bulb cast a yellowish glow on the rough cement walls, and the cell was thick with the smell of stale mold mixed with the scent of leftover guava paste brought by my mother last week.

I stared blankly at your back as you sat perched on the old iron bed with your knees pulled in, silently reading a book. As always, you were fighting politics and immersed in ideology.

Every day, I told you stories of movies I had seen for your sake. The panther woman in the movie would turn into a leopard and horribly devour the man she loved if she kissed him. Sadly, she was afraid her love would cause pain and lead to her being abandoned.

I acted as if I were her. I fumbled through my memories, pouring out every detail I could remember—the silk dress and veiled clothes she wore, the fur she dressed in, and the way she looked at the man she loved.

Valentin, hold me and kiss me! For I am the spider woman who entangles you in an emerald web...