The sun of Los Angeles

The sun came up and I saw her come outside. The dark haired girl with light eyes looked lost; her walk  gave her away as a tourist looking for the beauty in the city of commotion. I followed her through the unorganized streets, while she observed the colors that she once used to paint the picture of her home. With her long hair and old shoes, she stopped in front of the fountain in the middle of the plaza. I saw her breathe in the hot air, and laugh when the music reached her ears. Next to the crystalline water and the strangers, she sat during hours. She seemed to be waiting for her memory to take her far away from her downfall. At noon I saw her get up from the bronze bench. Her face lit up. She smiled as if she had discovered her smile for the first time. I looked at the direction of her smile and I saw three pairs of eyes who were smiling back. The greatest hug occurred between the four girls in the middle of the plaza.

The blue sky was witness to the reunion of infinite friendships. Next to known souls, the dark haired girl wasn't lost, but radiant, with the sun shinning in her face like it had years ago during those long hours spent in the grass. Laughing between memories, the girls went back to being the same as before they separated and, thanks to the change in the city of angels, they promised to keep saying nonsense between the stores, and dancing when distance and time broke them apart again.

I observed the dark haired girl with light eyes until the sun went down. I laughed at a distance when I saw her dance without caring about her age, and I lamented the absence of everlasting days when I saw her run between the books to read the diary of past years. Her companions, all shinning next to the stars, showed her the lyrics of the song she hadn't heard and, by the end of the night, they formed a song that would last another eight years.