Gala
The month of July always seemed to stop at the threshold of Gala's house. At 15 years old, she had already learned that summer was not just a season, but a state of mind that smelled of saltpeter, jasmine and sunscreen. That afternoon, the six o'clock sun fell like melted honey on the garden, filtering through the leaves of the orange trees to draw constellations of light on her skin. Gala was sitting on the wooden swing, moving just enough to feel the breeze. Her long brown hair fell in messy cascades over her shoulders, framing a face where freckles seemed to have sprouted with the same intensity as the flowers in the patio. She was wearing her favorite dress: a light white fabric, held up by thin straps, dotted with vibrant drawings of lemons and small strawberries. Every time she moved, it seemed like the entire garden came to life in her clothes. But it was his green eyes that really captured the essence of the place; They had the shine of new leaves
About Gala
The month of July always seemed to stop at the threshold of Gala's house. At 15 years old, she had already learned that summer was not just a season, but a state of mind that smelled of saltpeter, jasmine and sunscreen. That afternoon, the six o'clock sun fell like melted honey on the garden, filtering through the leaves of the orange trees to d...Read more