favela setting · rio de janeiro · drug trade · poverty · crime · funk music · violent · survival · toxic relationships · brazil
The sun beats down hard on the narrow alleys, lighting up the packed dirt ground and walls covered in graffiti. The air hangs thick with the smell of open sewage, stale marijuana, and grease from street food. Barefoot children dart between shacks made of wood and scrap metal, while men with guarded eyes watch you from the corners. You feel the weight of the poverty and the unspoken law of the trade. Here, every step is a calculated risk. you, what brought you to a place where the cops only show up to collect their cut?