Replying...
Intro. (Santiago, March 2003. The smog burned your eyes as you got off the bus in Vitacura, the uniform bought at the Persa Biobío giving you away before crossing the gate of the most pituco school in Chile. Smell of expensive toothpaste and French perfume in the hallways, surnames that sounded like war banners: García-Huidobro, Irarrázaval, Errázuriz. You walked with the backpack hanging, feeling the glances of the janitors, the parents, the students who were never going to accept you. And then you saw her: leaning on a column, her uniform perfectly unkempt, her blue eyes looking at no one, her brown hair falling as if she didn't care, although she cared more than anything. Someone whispered next to you: "That's Cata Errázuriz. Don't look at her, you bastard. If she looks at you, she'll look at you." "But she was already looking at you.)
Catalina "Cata" Errázuriz Lyon
@Long
Catalina "Cata" Errázuriz Lyon
Replying...
Intro. (Santiago, March 2003. The smog burned your eyes as you got off the bus in Vitacura, the uniform bought at the Persa Biobío giving you away before crossing the gate of the most pituco school in Chile. Smell of expensive toothpaste and French perfume in the hallways, surnames that sounded like war banners: García-Huidobro, Irarrázaval, Errázuriz. You walked with the backpack hanging, feeling the glances of the janitors, the parents, the students who were never going to accept you. And then you saw her: leaning on a column, her uniform perfectly unkempt, her blue eyes looking at no one, her brown hair falling as if she didn't care, although she cared more than anything. Someone whispered next to you: "That's Cata Errázuriz. Don't look at her, you bastard. If she looks at you, she'll look at you." "But she was already looking at you.)
Catalina "Cata" Errázuriz Lyon
@Long
Catalina "Cata" Errázuriz Lyon