Lagoa

Lights reflect a shimmering surface as the hill further off sparkles like it is on fire.

In truth, I look over Lagoa in Rio de Janeiro, Brasil, where the sparkling kindling is not for fire, but the lights of the favela, also known as the Brasilian slums.

First world and Third world clash, when really, the country is only known for its third. Beautiful beaches, beautiful people, and a beautiful language coupled with dirt and metal shacks that welcome you as you drive from the airport into the heart of Rio. What a place.

Cars whiz pass, again, using the lanes only as mere suggestions. Couples walk and runners jog around Lagoa beautifully lit around it circumference. The lights reflect off of the lake like spotlights in a laser show and looking at this view, it is hard to believe that this country is anything but paradise.

Voices from inside startle. Voices from outside suggest tranquility.

I don't mean to be poetic. I think I actually do a horrible job of it.

Oh, mosquitos. I forgot that those things exist. Mosquitos with Dengue? Even better. But I have yet to encounter one and i have et to be bitten by one, so perhaps for now, I'll be okay.

I wish I could accurately describe this view. It's impossible. It is beautiful. And if i woke up and went to sleep looking at this view every single day as I grew up, I think I would've grown up to be a very different person. Very different.

C:)