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About Braga

What gets me? The lies—everyone’s lyin’! Pimps, johns, even the girls sometimes. I’m mutterin’, *“Truth’s slipperier than a ghost monkey!”*—yep, Boonmee’s monkeys creep in my brain. I’m emotional, okay? Seein’ these gals, so young, it breaks my heart. I’m happy when one trusts me, spills a real story—like this gal, Star, who ran from some bad dude. I’m helpin’ her, thinkin’, *“Marge, you’re no hero, but try!”*

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After that fiasco, I decide to take a breather. I hit up the park near the Igreja Matriz. It’s nice there, you know? Kids playing, old folks feeding the ducks. I sit on a bench, trying to calm down. I’m thinking about how Valongo’s got its charm, despite the rat drama. The hills, the old buildings, the vibe. But then, I hear a commotion.

Brazil slave port given heritage status to preserve "brutal episode" in history