Letter to the Young Beatriz
In the year 2000, time was a mischievous thief, stealthily pilfering the vibrant threads of my youth. My stories, though seemingly counterfeit, held the truth of my beauty in girlhood. I was a wildflower, braless and free, dancing like dervish petals in the spring breeze. My smile was as refreshing as lemonade, and my dresses were short, embodying the essence of pink and warm honey. I was a collection of bones, fragile under the weight of insecurities, yet radiant with the glow of youth. Today, my chin is softer, my hands bear the marks of time, and my breasts are … Continue reading Letter to the Young Beatriz