Men’s Home is where I became Miss G, thanks to the men who live in it. Ballet, traveling the world since I was 13, and living in big cities shaped my character, but this city shaped my seductive femininity. Perhaps, if Kleo hadn’t cheated, I wouldn’t have searched for ways to take my life into my own hands. I would have never discovered Men’s Home, meaning, I would have never discovered myself, nor my G-spots. I spent my whole life in front of a mirror, trying to move perfectly for just a few seconds of applause. I danced in front of thousands of people, their admiration just caressing my ego. On stage, I knew I was the best. I was talented, and I worked hard to achieve what I wanted. Life off stage wasn’t any different. I danced for many men, and as soon as I got their applause too, I left. I didn’t know I was becoming a dangerous woman when I packed my entire life into one suitcase and left more than once. No fears, no doubts, just curiosity for the next stage. Now, my life is between Albania and Men’s Home, but home is where the heart is. And mine is where Mr. T is; the only man who managed to overthrow the stoic figure I built my whole life. Red flags hang on him, screaming, I will make you suffer. But each of them turned from a warning into curiosity, and I fell deeper. His contradictions, his silences, everything pulled me closer. Yet, I am still on the other side of his wall. He is the only man who has touched me without even touching me.