On the last two days of my week of drinking breast milk, I knew that it had all basically been for nothing. I didn't really consider whether it was right or wrong—it was just what I needed in that situation. She reminds me that placebos are a hell of a drug. That made him very nervous—as he wasn't a born orator—and after praying on it for a night, the Virgin Mary appeared to him in a dream to give him the gift of eloquence by squirting her breast milk in his eye or his mouth—religious accounts are not entirely clear on this. Marina has a two-year-old daughter who's starting to wean, and I've come by her office to have lunch with her and drink some of her breast milk. Another risk factor is that as a bodily fluid, breast milk can carry a plethora of diseases—HIV, syphilis, hepatitis, or human T-lymphotropic virus, which can cause cancer. My friend Marina attaches the suction cup of the breast pump to her nipple and presses the button. Out on the street, a toddler wearing a tracksuit passed by in a stroller, pushed along by his father. The milk is warm and kind of sweet—it reminds me of very watery horchata.
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