1994 Zócalo
cloudy day in guanajuato
Xiomara adjusts her itchy lace collar as breadcrumbs fall as she takes another bite from a toasted crunchy torta de jamon with white cheese.
her blonde bangs & layered updo keep having to be pushed away as she gazes at plaza marte as she eats on a concrete bench with 4 gorgeous green trees behind el zocalo in front of her. she kicks her legs together, not caring her black mary janes just left dirt on her new ruffled white socks. putting her fanta down, locks eyes with the sun hiding behind these 1994 clouds; thinking of.. him again; him: the lie of her life; el hombre de su vida
