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About Curitiba

Me? I’m picturin’ it like this—dim lights, slow jams, somebody’s hands knowin’ every spot, unlockin’ shit you didn’t know was locked. “What are you?” she asks in the movie, all confused and curious—same shit you thinkin’ when that massage hits different. Little fact for ya: back in ancient China, they called this “yang touch,” some Taoist cats swore it balanced your chi or whatever. Sounds dope, right? I’m like, sign me up, fo’ shizzle, balance my ass out!

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There’s Parque do Encontro. A meager park, but oh, those trees sing in the sultry night. The breeze takes a piece of your soul and you feel reborn. I’d sit there, contemplating all aspects of desire, almost hearing the wind whisper "clarice…". That’s where I once stumbled on a heart-wrenching argument, a reflection of human passion and pain, raw and unfiltered. My heart raced! So maddening and pure.

Francisco H. Matos Obituary November 14, 2024