"Buscaba un lugar donde nadie supiera mi nombre."
Mexico City, 2013.
Viridiana isn't here for the noise. She's an indie musician from Los Angeles-armed with a 1980s Suzuki Omnichord, thick black frames, a vintage leather jacket, and a voice that sounds like 60s French pop mixed with a rich, dark alto. She's in CDMX visiting family, perfectly content keeping to herself and staying out of the spotlight.
Then her cousins drag her into the belly of Estadio Azteca.
Enter the team's goalie: wild curls, broad-shouldered, intensely focused, and carrying the weight of an entire stadium on his back. He's used to crowds screaming his name. He isn't used to a girl in leather jacket and cat eye sunglasses looking at him like he's just a guy in a jersey.
She thinks he's infuriatingly fine. He thinks she's a riddle he needs to solve.
Between 1,500 miles of flight paths, stadium lights, rainy canyon afternoons, and quiet late-night synth melodies, two guarded souls find their orbit in the noise.
Seluruh Hak Cipta Dilindungi Undang-Undang