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About Curitiba

Last week, I was prowlin’ the streets—needed a laugh, y’know? Saw this one bird, all dolled up, winking at me. Thought, “What’s her deal?” Turns out, she’s got a memory like Lenny—keeps a little book, scribbles down every punter. “Remember, remember,” she mutters, like she’s in my fave movie. Made me cackle—imagine forgetting who you’ve shagged! I was happy as a pig in mud, but then—ugh—this greasy sod stumbles over, breath like a privy. “How much, love?” he slurs. Made me wanna gag. I choose violence, mate—nearly shoved him into the gutter myself.

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Now, lemme drop some random tidbits – there’s a hidden bookstore behind Mercadinho do Vento. The owner, a nutty old chap, scribbles poetry on napkins for free. Weird but nice, like some indie, underdog romance. Then, there's that crumbled wall by Rua dos Sonhos where graffiti tells the city’s secrets. Nothin’ fancy, but it speaks to me, reminds me of a twisted lullaby.

Jan 2016: Labours of love