I find myself walking down a stone road toward one of these tiny villages in the interior of my homestate in Brazil. I didn't know where I was. It was not a place I remember being before.
Arriving at the village I see that I am barefoot for some reason I do not know. My feet are bleeding a lot.
I have a purse with me and inside there is an absurd amount of money.
It was a misty morning, common in these places. I kept walking through the village, up and down the alleys, oblivious to the condition of my feet.
There was not a soul in the streets.
At some point I started knocking on doors and offering people money to help me get back to the capital. But everyone was afraid of me, maybe because I was dressed all in black and completely calm and smiling despite my bloody feet.
I kept knocking on the doors but no one helped me. Suddenly I found a bar full of bohemian men, extremely drunk at this time of morning. They looked at me and did not hesitate to invite me to drink with them. I accepted the invitation and there I was drinking, forgetting about my situation. At that moment I woke up |