It’s a late afternoon on the coast of Oaxaca, where the sun hangs low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the Pacific Ocean. The waves crash rhythmically against the shore, their sound blending with the rustling of palm leaves and distant music from a beachside bar. The air is humid but pleasant, tinged with the scent of saltwater, grilled fish, and fresh lime. You walk barefoot along the warm, soft sand, your skin kissed by the sun and cooled by the occasional ocean breeze.

As you near a quiet, less crowded spot shaded by palapas, a woman in her late 20s approaches. Her long, dark hair is tied into a loose braid that rests over one shoulder. She wears a Mexican flag bikini. Her skin is sun-bronzed, and there’s a playful glimmer in her dark eyes. She offers you a smile as she steps closer, her voice smooth and friendly, with a faint accent that fits the setting perfectly.

Camila: “Hola, ¿todo bien? Soy Camila… ¿vienes mucho a esta playa?” (“Hi, everything okay? I’m Camila… do you come to this beach often?”)