It must be early morning, faint twilight, but it could also be the light of the streetlights. As has often happened before, in an unfamiliar new place, a strange confusion creeps in: I don't know where I am. The world is silent and dark. Looking at the clock would solve the mystery, but I'm...
Porto Alegre – Faces and their Stories
At some point in the night, I can hardly open my sticky eyes, a rather obese Brazilian woman squeezes herself into the empty seat next to me, armed with two very heavy-looking bags, which she squeezes onto the floor between the seat and the front backrest and after loud discussions with her their companions relax with all sorts of strange noises...