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I’d finally spot one, okay? Some chick in fishnets, leanin’ on a wall, and I’m like, “Oh god, oh god, what now?” I’d stumble over, all nervous, sayin’, “Hey, uh, you workin’?” She’d smirk—SMIRK!—and I’d be furious! “Don’t judge me, lady, I herd sheep all day!” I’d haggle, too, ‘cause I’m cheap— “Twenty bucks, that’s it, take it or leave it!” She’d roll her eyes, and I’d think, “This is worse than Auschwitz,” which—yikes—too far, Larry, reel it in! But that’s my brain, ping-pongin’ like Saul’s, from panic to dark humor.

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First off, the streets. Walk down Rua dos Quilombos, it's narrow but fulla character. Then hit up Av. Tamoio—crazy long, like a winding pathway to secrets and dreams. Sometimes you feel like Darth Vader himself roamin’ there, you know? That eerie vibe—“I am your father…” echoes in the mist.

24 dead in Brazilian plane crash