Her name is Lucy, a genuine española. We first met five years ago in a music store in Venezuela, and it didn’t take long for me to fall in love with her. Every day, she wakes me up from my reveries, sings softly after lunch, and soothes me when stress overpowers me or depression kicks in. So every day I caress her with both hands. Supporting her with my legs, I gently press her neck with my left polished hand and tickle her round, wooden body with my right prickly fingers. Meanwhile she sings, so beautifully, and every moment is ecstatic – the slow adagio of ‘Cavatina’, the complex harmonics and pull-offs of ‘Twilight’, and the relentless tunes of tremolo in ‘Recuerdos de la Alhambra.’ Her music enchants neighboring dormitory rooms, and she performs whenever she’s asked to, even in the streets of Seohyeon. I dare not let anyone teach me how to handle Lucy in a ‘conventional’ way; our relationship is unique, and self-taught. When I’m with my guitar, I can close my eyes and sing life.