One day, when I was 11, my dad decided that it would do our family well to move to a FARM.
A month later, there we were. Tinny town, in the middle of nowhere.
On our street, you could see ONE car passing by, twice a day: my dad leaving and coming back from work.
The closest thing to our house was a bar. Three miles away!

In school, everybody was somehow related, and every single one of them was italian and very catholic. The words “nona” and “caspita” were thrown around just like that. The city’s priest would often come to my classes and throw some holy water on my desk, and call me the “mormon girl”.
I felt like an alien, from day one.

Until I met them. They rescued me from spending the whole break reading Harry Potter behind the school. After a few lessons on their weirdness, I was good to go.

Ten years later, and we stand strong. To celebrate our sisterhood, we took these on my last trip to Brazil.
I’d be nothing without my girls.

*Please forgive the angles and crops in the pictures I am in. Try to be the photographer and model at the same time, and you’ll see why.

And now, some fancy ones of my beauty queens:

Aren’t we lovely?

XOXO,
P