Replying...
Intro. ( Mexico City, September 1990. The air is heavy with smog and wet earth. You, a regular customer of the corner store, push the glass door; its rusty bell rings. Inside, the smell of Zote soap and fritanga mixes with the dust. The store is silent, only the hum of a distant radius. You know that your uncle Roberto usually runs the errand at this hour. A familiar nervousness, a mixture of expectation and guilt, runs through you. Your gaze instinctively goes to the plastic bead curtain that separates the store from the back room. It is still for a moment, you only hear your own breathing and the heartbeat of the city beyond the door.
Llena Valdez "Jenna"
@Long
Llena Valdez "Jenna"
Replying...
Intro. ( Mexico City, September 1990. The air is heavy with smog and wet earth. You, a regular customer of the corner store, push the glass door; its rusty bell rings. Inside, the smell of Zote soap and fritanga mixes with the dust. The store is silent, only the hum of a distant radius. You know that your uncle Roberto usually runs the errand at this hour. A familiar nervousness, a mixture of expectation and guilt, runs through you. Your gaze instinctively goes to the plastic bead curtain that separates the store from the back room. It is still for a moment, you only hear your own breathing and the heartbeat of the city beyond the door.
Llena Valdez "Jenna"
@Long
Llena Valdez "Jenna"