Living like Ella when meets Jobim, Ella Fitzgerald herself. I would say I’ve missed you SP with my broken heart that has escaped, escaped and lived 5 years out of Brazil. The dust of grey, the most bizarre city I’ve ever been that has been bombeb by the industrial and smells like milk, the wet concrete city in a rush with the calm of Bahia, the swing of Sao Paulo.

Sao Paulo is dark, rainy, wet. Ugly looking from some angles and extremely beautiful from others full of little treasures, founds of a sunday morning. It is purely like you get lost trying to understand its functions over and over again on repeat. Illusional landscapes trés chic. Loads of rays and thunderstorms I would even bet David Bowie was on a essay to visit some of us on his Aladin Sane. I’m fear full, fierce.

Famous for having a vivid night life still inspires always with new people that comes from other places or where born here and have remained hidden in obscure spaces. Always interesting with touches of mystery, Latin America with the feeling of tropics.

The industrial is on art, on fashion, on independent music, on the city and in the kitchen sink, on the concrete and on the people’s mind growing fast with the contemporary feet and a province language. The charm of a cosy place difficult to explain hard to understand.

The fog is all around, dense intense dramatic. You discover the taste of it as it not that easy. Never watched a film that translates so well the identity of the city as Metropolis of Fritz Lang it is a perfect description, so impacting in my life that I’m jealous of it. Hard, heavy, stoned. Dangerous. Always calling up for a fight there is no one to fight, fight for structure, fight for improvement, fight to fit everybody in. Packed in a slow motion.

Well, I’d love to send you more accurate impressions of it but I will let you with the taste of bread butter toast and the classic pingado and as I cut the milk out, the black coffee with 2 sugars please has take place. The Brazilian Vampire.


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