Rio in the face of lovepublished: 2010-02-25
I had somehow forgotten all about the men who walk down three-lane city streets during rush hour in only their swimming trunks. They stop for a fresh juice at a corner store. I had forgotten there’s much more of them than there are thong-bikini wearing females. It seems the women only undress on the beach.
I had somehow forgotten about the impact of seeing a woman begging next to the supermarket. Her two year old poops under a tree in the pavement. As if he were a dog.
I had somehow forgotten about the foul smells this city carries on its wings. Of gas, of exhaust, of insecticides, of mould.
But I had not forgotten about it’s intoxication, the imcomprehensible hold it has on one’s soul, as if you were instantly in love. With what exactly is hard to say. And everyone smiles, wonders about you, asks who you are, wants to know. As you walk the streets and feel the high, far, far away, beneath the misty, sand-stained skies. Share a kiss. Love is blind, they say. Love is patient, love is kind.
Forgetting is a weapon of love’s arsenal.