Milena Anfosso
Bio
Born in Italy. Living in Los Angeles.
Currently trying to reconcile my right and left brain.
http://www.milenanfosso.com
IG deneb_alphacygni
Stories (3/0)
The Ficus Tree
Oh, no. The alarm clock. Ya...? Cómo pasó? Qué dolor de cabeza tengo. God knows how I will be able to get something done in that garden, later. I definitely drank too much, last night. Pero qué fiesta, para mi princesa. The best niece an uncle could possibly ask for. I love her so much! How can she already be fifteen years old?! Quince años… Time flies… The day Mariana put her in my arms for the first time, at the hospital, I couldn’t believe it. She was such a little nugget. Sure, Mariana wasn’t ready, and that cabrón… Ahi, I don’t wanna even think about him. But we made it here, Mariana y Miguél, Miguél y Mariana, los hermanitos, twins and best friends, always together. And God blessed us with Susanita, and yesterday she was shining in her quinceañera dress! I can’t stop thinking about it… Qué benedición! Oh, el cafécito… What a headache. I should probably take an Advil… Or two. Or even more.
By Milena Anfosso2 years ago in Fiction
Muñeca Linda
Barbara had just stepped outside the store, on the way back to her motel, when one of the plastic bag’s handles broke unexpectedly. The bottle of Merlot she had just purchased shattered into one thousand pieces upon contact with the curb. The ruby-brick explosion on the grey cement was followed by Pollock-like dripping as Barbara carried to the closest trashcan the rest of the unfortunate bottle wrapped in the bag, like a bloody murder weapon. “At least I saved the frozen pizza,” she thought.
By Milena Anfosso3 years ago in Humans
A One-Way Trip
I began dreaming about Southern California and the City of Angels when I was an angry teenager, locked in my room, listening to punk rock music. It was the early 2000s, and my life totally sucked back then. I felt imprisoned in a village of three hundred souls in rural Northern Italy. It was definitely a great place to live if you are a farmer, a wine producer, or a hermit, but not so great if you are a rebellious 16-year-old girl who is craving adventure and freedom. Despite the picturesque landscape of the Langhe, I simply could not fit in that homogenizing provincial lifestyle. It was suffocating. The same places, the same people, the same sidelong glances over and over again. Yet locked in my room, listening to my music, I could travel with my mind.
By Milena Anfosso3 years ago in Wander
