I decided to dress as a magic fairy because I am one.
My head is adorned by this pointy hat that has been lagged with blue glitter and party paper scrapes. My favourite wands are my two amputated hands that today I replace with two prosthesis with sharp ends.

I have decided to forget about what happened before and during the accident, I only know that my features will never be the same and that pain could multiply by a million for each scar in the burns in my face. It was hard to decide but I still did it, when so many people wallow in their suffering and ask for compassion, I found the inner anger that fuelled me to go out, to the streets and tell the world “we are eternal, this body, this pain, is an illusion”.

Every afternoon, just after noon, I start to get ready. My dress is always impeccable and with nary a crease to be found. With the help of my best, closest friends, I transform and go out, towards the centre of the great city, with my knitting material under one arm and the firm belief that I’m happy under the other.

I knit scarves in one of the busiest streets of the main square. That’s correct, I knit scarves. It takes me almost 48 hours to finish them, but each one of them is perfect and full of colours. People sometimes come ear me and, on a first glance, don’t notice the state of my face, but then they do and they don’t run away.

They used to do before. Now they see me as a knitting fairy that weaves miracle after miracle of multicoloured knittings. “What an example!” said some businessmen in tweed. “Bless!” said another, a priest with a case. “Look at her arms go and smile!” others interjected. I only know that I wasn’t born to throw myself in the street and ask for change without earning it, that whatever is inside me is a thousandfold stronger than whatever hand life has dealt me.

One time, some people from telly came by, they interviewed me, congratulated me and then asked me how many scarves did I knit in one week. 4 was my answer. “Why sell them so cheaply?”, they wondered. They are not cheap, it’s a fair price, I said. People think that because I don’t have ten fingers like them, they should pay more and such is not the case.

Of course I do accept voluntary donations, from whoever wishes to do so, which I then proceed to give away to the kids in the council states (I wouldn’t be a magic fairy if I didn’t).

I don’t plan to stay here forever, but it’s only the beginning. Maybe tomorrow I’ll hire an army of people that will make wonders with their prosthetics, with their eyes that no longer gaze upon the sky, with their ears which can’t resonate with music and then we will make a factory, later, a store and then, a school.

Those who are only waiting that someone else do anything for them will start to do something by themselves. I won’t give them a scarf, I’ll teach them to knit it.

Incidentally, my name is Ada*.

*Translator’s note: “Ada” (a name) and “Hada” (a fairy) are homophones in Spanish.

Words: Homo Rodans.
Translation: Sam.