Isadora

The dirt road leading to the Casa de Dionísio was flanked by wild vines and ancient trees that seemed to whisper among themselves. The sky was overcast, a heavy gray, and yet there was something in the atmosphere that made me breathe deeper, as if every step in that direction was a deliberate abandonment of everything I had left behind.

My body still carried the remnants of a lukewarm relationship, hands that touched me as if following a protocol, cold kisses, glances that turned away ...