From me to you

Who do you want to go with he asks and I point at M.

It’s an impromptu night with a Brazilian motor club from Corúmba to Bolivia, far from coffee labs in São Paulo, dyed bobs and two starred Michelin restaurants down the road on Rua Fradique Coutinho.

It’s close to the Bolivian border far from the screaming, the drama and the fighting that’s to come.

It’s 180 km an hour on RN 4 past Puerto Suarez and I wrap my hands around his thin waist and let my guards down.

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