Romina Carrea

The scent of perfume invades the car. I wearing a pale pink dress and my feet still don ́t reach the floor My mom is sitting next to me, looking though the window. A row of colored lights illuminates the night. The woman in the passenger seat lowers the sun visor and looking at herself in the mirror, touches up her red lipstick. We stop. We ́ve arrived at the theather that looks like a palace.