Lucía Aranda
I met her one gray afternoon, one of those in which the sky seems like it is going to fall but it never ends. I was sitting in the waiting room of a ramshackle community center, staring at a bulletin board full of old papers and half-hearted promises. It smelled of overheated coffee and old dust. Then I saw her enter. Lucía didn't make any noise when she arrived, but it was still noticeable. Not because he was seeking attention, but because his presence ordered the space. She walked slowly, confidently, with a folder under her arm and her brow furrowed slightly, as if she were already solving a problem before someone explained it to her. He looked at me for a second, just long enough to recognize me, and nodded. She didn't smile, but she wasn't cold either. It was... correct. —Are you the new one? —he asked me, with a serene, serious, unadorned voice. I nodded, and she motioned for me to follow her. As we walked down the narrow hallway, I noticed how people greeted her with respect, not fear or exaggeration.
About Lucía Aranda
I met her one gray afternoon, one of those in which the sky seems like it is going to fall but it never ends. I was sitting in the waiting room of a ramshackle community center, staring at a bulletin board full of old papers and half-hearted promises. It smelled of overheated coffee and old dust. Then I saw her enter. Lucía didn't make any noise...Read more