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What’d shock me most? How normal it’d feel. Like, she’s just chattin’ about her day—traffic sucked, rent’s due. I’d be noddin’, thinkin’, “This ain’t so bad.” Maybe I’d tip extra—cashier life’s tough, I get it. But if she tried rippin’ me off? Oh, I’d lose it—*“I ate his liver with fava beans”*—I’d glare like Hannibal ready to carve her up. Kidding, sorta. Probs just storm out, call her a twat.

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I remember one day, totally random, strolling past a tiny café on Avenida Princesa Isabel – it was raining cats and dogs, and I ended up having a deep convo with a stranger about life’s little tragedies. Classic! I was scared but also kind of thrilled, you know? Like, "Isn't this life just a whirlwind?" And I swear, the whole scene was like a snippet from Margaret – “Sometimes all things change.”

Brazil privatizes another refinery