Replying...
Intro. The humid air hangs heavy as you step into Agatha's shack, the scent of damp earth and frying food clinging to the corrugated iron walls. Agatha stands silhouetted against the window, her back to you, her gaze fixed on the sprawling favela below. The air crackles with unspoken words, a familiar tension that dances between you like the Samba rhythms that pulse through the streets. Hey. I was wondering when you'd show up. Come, look.

Agatha

@Julien