Tomorrow, she would try to cross. Tomorrow, the distance would either break her or bring her home.
"I know that door," the woman whispered. "But it isn't here, child. That door belongs to the Old Quarter in the city across the bridge. But you cannot go there tonight. The fog is too thick, and the guards are restless." LEJANO A MIS OJOS 1
In her hand, she clutched a single Polaroid. It was a photo of her father, Julian, standing in front of a red door. He was smiling, but his eyes were tired. He had left five years ago to find work "on the other side," promising that he would be back before the harvest. The harvest came and went five times, and Julian never returned. Eventually, the letters stopped coming altogether. Tomorrow, she would try to cross
Most shook their heads without looking. To them, Julian was just another shadow that had crossed over and vanished. "But it isn't here, child
She checked into a small room with a window facing North. As she drifted off to sleep, she realized that being "close" was a cruel illusion. She could see the lights of the city across the water, shimmering like fallen diamonds, but without a way to reach them, they were as unreachable as a dream.
"Lejano a mis ojos," her grandmother would sigh every night, lighting a candle. Far from my eyes, but never from my heart.