My time in Mato Grosso do Sul has come to an end and I sit on the edge of the cliff at morro Paxixi looking out over the lush landscape. The land whispers to me that it has showed me anger and death, that it has laid it out for me in Brazil so that I can see it properly. For two years I believe it’s M’s rage that was on display but on a quiet night in Lisbon I realise that it was mine all along.


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