Here's the latest from JS's Rio:
Right into the heart of a raging guerrilla war where even the local bandidos, armed to the teeth, didn’t tread that day.
Narcisa didn’t care. She wanted to cop. Or die trying.
She stumbled along the labyrinthine bullet-scarred alleys of the deserted, post-shootout favela, raving, yelling, “Show your face! Shoot me, kill me! Where are you, cowards!”
“Where the fuck is everybody?” She cried out desperately, an abandoned child running around like a frantic white rat in a maze.
The only answer was her own echo in the eerily still kill-zone.
“Show you face, you shits!” She shouted again and again to the invisible Drug War snipers hidden in the shadows, holding her long white arms out like Christ the Redeemer.
“I wan’ some crack, porra! Show you fucking faggot faces or just go an’ shoot me… I wan’ it the DRUGS, man, got it?”
Nobody showed their face. Nobody shot her. Nobody sold her any drugs.
Finally she got bored hearing her own lonely voice echo there in those lifeless empty alleys of the dead.
Then she finally gave up and went away to look for drugs or death or whatever she could find somewhere else.
The end.
The audacity. Inspiring audacity.
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