If you ever wonder where people disappear to on Saturday nights, the answer is Santa Monica. The sound of so many walking fills in the silence. Every corner discovers an American idol. The merging of the flavors treat the olfactory. The jalapeno margarita at the Loteria, the fondue @ Marcel and the prosecco at Trasvetere. Even when the lights go out, the evening still sparkles.

I matched my boots with my colorful coat and walked down the 3rd street promenade. The waves in my hair were untouched and each strand tangled with the other. Wearing only my mascara and coco, I carried a subtle smile and took each step after the other. I walked straight and observed every single soul who crossed my sight. For those 15 minutes in the crowd, I was Alice.

And there my eyes met a stranger. It was that moment when both sets refused to blink and any rest would have been a second lost. The lock was unbreakable. In those few moments, the present touched the future and wondered.

He was beautiful.


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