𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘙𝘓𝘠 𝘈𝘓𝘉𝘌𝘙𝘛𝘐 ;; ✼

Year 1981, Barracas, Argentina.

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Charly was a good boy. Studious, cute, intelligent and respectful, almost the perfect mold of a little man, if it weren't for what he dedicated himself to due to lack of equipment.

He walked through the streets with the same effeminate appearance as always, with a smile on his lips and his hair messy, but inside he was empty and disoriented, repudiating himself for the path he had taken at such a young age.