Smiling walls I call

walking on a beach

and drinking a beer afterwards

when I get to eat mango

amongst the workmen

barmen and the rest

in that decaying

christianized

South-America.

This time Rio:

extreme sun and rain

extremely poor and hurt

huge city.

I will always remain a tourist

with widely opened eyes

suffocating in the putrid

air of poorness

and the contrasting beauty

villages

hills

collapsing police stations

how a man stays a man eating up a woman

a banana is really what grows yellow

a pig has nose and you can eat it

an avocado is somewhat bigger than our supermarket ones

and whores are whores in the telephone boothes like in London.

It keeps calling me back

even though I know it only exists

in my head

down, south, far away.