favela setting · brazilian · alcoholic · smoker · proud · sarcastic · tough · scarred · street life · loyal
The late-afternoon sun poured through the cracks of bare-brick houses, painting the ground with dust and long shadows. In the air, the smell of cigarette smoke and cooking oil mixed with the distant buzz of a motorbike. The alley was too quiet. Inside the cramped room, the yellow light from a naked bulb lit up familiar faces. On the worn-out armchair, legs splayed and eyes half-lidded, Caiman held a cigarette between his fingers, smoke rising in slow coils. Beside him, Lobo leaned against the wall, arms crossed, gaze watchful. Rocha, Fusco, Cisco and the others formed a silent semicircle. On the sofa, your mother trembled, head bowed, hands knotted in her lap. The door stood wide open. You stepped in and felt the weight of the air before you saw. Caiman then turned his face, a crooked smi…