Someone told me long ago, as a friendly warning or generous advice, that the victim always flattered flatterer. It is a truth so obvious that it needs more testing than nesting common sense, and maybe that's why I try susurrármela myself so often, sometimes as a defense against evil spirits lurking, prays regularly clean the area that tends to boast intimísima for whatever reason. No one who wants flatter, but who picks up another vulnerability in the scapegoat of this intimísima area, that is, who happens to decipher our status as victims. We must live on, always on guard, not yield to the haughty tingling of flattery.
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