Aimee was known for her speed, she could walk from one end of the market to the other within an hour, having picked everything up for her mother.  “Ah young Chilango,” the older sellers would call her as she rushed through the market. But she wasn’t from Mexico City, she just moved quickly with a hope in her step- the expectation for what lay in the next step- whispering to this step.  I liked to stand next to Aimee, as if the whispers of expectation could whisper into my ear as we walked.

16 Oct This entry was published on October 16, 2012 at 12:53 am and is filed under Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.