We lay in the park, drunk with ethnic motives of the planet. Musicians of all skin colours change one another. Her stomach starts growing. “How do you do that?” – I ask lightly. She shrugs and spreads hands wider on the grass, eyes locked on the stage: “Endocrinologist told me this is not dangerous”. I embrace her slowly ballooning tummy. She grows more relaxed and rounded. We smile at each other. I crawl to sit behind and around her, to support her frame – the pose is more intimate than intended, but it relaxes her even more.
