Together with my always favorite Snow White and the Seven dwarfs, and other fantastic tales I used to love as a child (and still do), my father used to read to me a great amount of "different" types of literature, among my dearest ones, the two books that I used to ask daddy to read over and over again were: the one on pirates (but not the version for children, the real thing, with the tortures and punishments and all) and his congenital pediatric malformation book (he's a pediatrician), both books had a great deal of images and pictures explaining the worse possible imaginable subjects, from deceased premature Siamese twins conjoined at the head, to Captain Kidd's lifeless corpse dipped in tar and hung by chains at the mouth of the Thames River to rot, not quite your average bedtime material, but I was obsessed!... my improbable curiosity towards everything mixed with my father's unbelievable knowledge and eccentricity seems to have had a lot to do with the quirky person I am today
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