The Ávila told me.

That morning, Julia woke up nauseous; that always happened to her on dress rehearsal days. To make matters worse, it was pouring rain, and she didn't know how she would get to the Teresa Carreño by six o'clock sharp because the subway wasn't running. She went out to take out the trash and ran into her neighbor, who mentioned that her son Sebastián had bought a car and was working as a taxi driver, just in case she needed him. Julia was secretly in love with Sebastián.

Julia called him and booked him to take her to the Teresa Carreño. Sebastián recommended they leave at least two hours early: "With this downpour, it's better to leave early." Sebastián was secretly in love with Julia.

The beginning of the ride was silent; both were too shy to speak. Until "Tu beso se hizo calor... Luego el calor movimiento" started playing on the radio. Julia began to sing, and Sebastián said to her: "I love Drexler." She smiled... and when the chorus arrived, they both sang along in unison, very much out of tune, "Nothing is lost, everything is transformed, nanana na na, everything is transformed," and they laughed together. Julia's nausea had gone away, and even though she knew she had a rehearsal, she would have liked to stay in that moment forever.

The windshield wipers dancing. The highway a parking lot. Sebastián and Julia were at ease; they talked and listened to each other. Julia never would have imagined that the best date of her life would be in a taxi in the middle of traffic, and Sebastián was hoping the highway would stay jammed forever.

It was already six-thirty when they arrived at the Teresa Carreño. Julia, flustered, paid and thanked Sebastián. She opened her umbrella and ran out. Reaching the door, she realized she had left her ballet slippers on the back seat. She turned around and saw Sebastián walking in the rain with the slippers in his hand. Julia ran toward him. They looked into each other's eyes and, without thinking too much, they kissed.

"Should I pick you up?" he asked. "No, don't worry, I'm heading back with Carmen." They said goodbye.
When the rehearsal ended, Julia had a message on her cell phone: "Would you like to come with me to see the lighting of the Ávila cross tomorrow at seven?" Without thinking much, she replied, "I would love to," and began jumping for joy.

The next day, Sebastián went to the march in the morning—one of many that occurred frequently in Caracas—but he didn't come back. No one knows exactly what happened. Gunshots were heard, the asphalt was stained red, and Sebastián fell to the ground.

Julia now lives in Paris and took a printed photo of the Ávila cross with her, and every December 1st she has a date with the picture and wonders what would have happened if they hadn't taken everything away from her.

The Ávila told me this story, too.

City of Caracas made for Gabi.