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Flipping Over the Stone

Yesterday, I was walking back from the grocery store when the porteiro called me over —  a package had arrived. When I walked into his office to sign for it, there was another woman there, chit-chatting and watching the world go by. He mentioned to her that I wasn’t from Rio which, of course, led into a short conversation about where I was from and, the question I hate most, “Está gostando do Brasil?” Continue reading Flipping Over the Stone