Eh Gringa, Hear our voices. It's a struggle on the streets here in Brazil. See the destruction of our innocence, hopes and dreams against a backdrop of drugs, sex and gun warfare. Read these wonderful pen portraits and hear the bittersweet lament that we hope will make you care passionately about our lives.
This is a great book which could also be an equally great film. It cuts between points of view and internal monologues in a way which makes it feel like a screenplay just waiting to happen.
Mama was clutching her suitcases as though she had packed all her dignity and last hopes inside them. I could see that she was regretting leaving the Square. In front of us were creepy-looking hills covered with shacks. I felt lost just looking at them. The shacks were like leeches, stuck all over the mountains, devouring them. I couldn't see how it all stayed standing - it seemed to me that the rain and the wind were about to wash it all away. How would we manage to live in this gigantic rat warren?