“You don’t know what you’re talking about”, he tells me as we are holding hands crossing the corner of Avenida Hipólito Yrigoyen onto Independencía.
Sometimes I find my insecurity in the hearts of men and mistake it for love.
an ode to travelling
“You don’t know what you’re talking about”, he tells me as we are holding hands crossing the corner of Avenida Hipólito Yrigoyen onto Independencía.
Sometimes I find my insecurity in the hearts of men and mistake it for love.