THE WHITE...
I park the Tesla in front of the house of God. At least, that's what they say. The place where the corrupt politician kneels and asks forgiveness for leaving half a million people below the poverty line.
I close my jacket and slowly enter the church. I admire the building, three times bigger than the last time I saw it. The building is old, but not old. The colors, the Renaissance style, the shapes. Everything gives the impression that the church has never been renovated, but the truth is that less than a million dollars would hardly be enough to raise the pillars.
I look up at the cloudy sky. The instability of the climate in the big cities is what makes me miss an isolated island in southern Europe.
I enter the holy temple, looking around out of habit. It is
