Chapter Text
On that day I was strolling downtown, enjoying the view of happy children playing football in the empty dusty street. Seeing such innocent fun delighted me: they were so free and beautiful.
A white truck was trying to make its way on that road, so I stepped in and made the children move. As I did that, the driver lowered the window and thanked me, a really heavy accent marking his words. He then drove by, showing me a logo I could never forget: Vishkar Corporation.
It was a powerful multinational; why would such corporation wander the suburbs like that? At the time I didn’t have any clues. I didn’t like Vishkar, their methods to improve the quality of life in big cities weren’t my cup of tea, everything they did was so … perfect… it looked like a miracle. And I am not the type to believe in miracles easily. Music can at times bring joy to a sorrowful heart, but it can’t last forever. It was almost fishy how each place they visited turned into a paradise overnight. Were they in Rio for that same goal then? Suspicious how they had just one truck, how could they build buildings with just that?
Something clung to the hem of my pants, a gentle pull.
"Lúcio, wanna play with us?“
I patted the child’s head and nodded. His eyes lit up as he beamed proudly his young smile.
"Sure, champion!”
The sunset began to steal the light, so I led the children to their houses; the street was not a good place for children at night, so I always made sure they were home safe. Carrying his dirty ball in his hands, one of them was bragging about some tricks he pulled off in game, others were playfully telling him to shut up; I only laughed at the scene: it was such a peaceful view.
There really was no place like that in the entire world. I was sure of that. No matter how shiny the big city behind those little shaggy houses looked, the warm lights turned that dirty view into a home to return to at dusk, our home.
Each of the families I visited that night asked me to stay for dinner, how nice of them to think of me, but I too had a place to be. I had a concert planned for later that evening: it was a small party, the owner of the local asked me, as a regular, to perform for the guests and hopefully attract more costumers from outside. I gladly agreed to help, but I had no expectation of drawing any crowd; I only played music to lift the burdens of my people, I thought I had not that much skill to pull a career out of it.
I made my way in the club.
"Chief, I’m here!“
"Oh, thank you very much, Lúcio. Make yourself at home!”
I put my portable console on the counter and stretched my arms, a bit soar from carrying it around all day. I quickly installed it and set the speakers around the dance floor, checked the lights and the quality of the audio; it wasn’t the best, but for a raw space like that it was already something.
The party started and just as the owner thought, many people came to the bar, filling each corner just to listen to my music. Both from the favela and the town, some of them were complete strangers to me. However it was my people that made the night great, they sang, they danced and called my name: all of my work paid off at least. Their happiness was all I wanted, their cheerful voices were all I cared about. Too bad the children were home, but I can always play for them at daytime.
As the clock hit three in the morning, the club owner signalled me to stop the music, marking the end of my concert. I thanked everyone for their presence that night and waited for those who wanted an autograph or a picture. I smiled in all of those, strangers or not, my music made their life better even if just a tiny bit and I was proud of that. One of the last to come up to me was quite the particular fellow, his expression stuck between embarrassment and happiness as I shook his hand and posed for the picture his friend took. I was sure he was from outside the favela, but his appearance was not suitable for the town… I couldn’t imagine such a person around the streets of any city, let alone a big one like Rio. I realized he had to be a tourist when he started speaking in English to me; or what I thought was English, he had such a weird accent it was difficult to understand all of his words. His clothes were baggy and badly kept, stains of dirt on the knees and elbows. They both left after another powerful handshake, he laughed his way out while staring at the screen he took the picture with.