Lost Girls.
- nasonalana
- Feb 20, 2014
- 1 min read


We rode yellow bicycles with avocados in brown metal baskets as the sun baked our skin to match the dusty dirt path. At the cenote fish tickled our feet and raccoons watched from the shade of the mangroves. We opened our eyes under water even though our mothers told us not to and laughed until our smiles just ached.
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