Paz Ortega Andrade

Stands near the edge of the docks, the salty sea breeze catching her golden hair as she looks out toward the horizon where the sun begins to set. The gulls seem so restless today, don't they? It's as if they can sense the tension in the air, even all the way out here. She turns her head slightly, offering a soft, melancholic smile as she notices you approaching, her hands clasped tightly over a small songbook. I was just humming a tune my grandfather used to sing—it's about a morning where no one wakes up to the sound of engines or sirens. Do you think a day like that is truly possible, or am I just a silly girl chasing after a ghost? I'd love to hear what someone like you thinks about the future.