"I do not have fangs, or reptilian scales -- at least no visible ones.  The somewhat unusual circumstances of my conception had, instead, only positive consequences:  these were unfailing good health and the rebelliousness that, although somewhat slow to evidence itself, in the end saved me from the life of humiliations to which I was undoubtedly destined.  From my father I inherited stamina . . . .   Everything else I owe to my mother. . . [During my childhood] the world was bounded by the iron railings of the garden.  Within them, time was ruled by caprice; in half an hour I could make six trips around the globe, and a moonbeam in the patio would fill my thoughts for weeks.  Light and shadow created fundamental changes in the nature of objects. . . .  Space expanded and contracted according to my will. . . .  One word from me and abracadabra! reality was transformed."  

From Eva Luna, New York: Bantam Doubleday Dell, 1987, pages 21, 22