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Personal quirk—I’d prolly overthink it, like, “What’s her story? She paintin her own canvas?” Exaggeratin for fun, maybe she’s a secret outlaw queen—runnin the show, “I’ll kill ya myself,” she’d whisper, all sultry-like. Hella intense! But real talk, it’s just business—supply, demand, happy little transactions. Still, somethin bout it feels raw, human—kinda beautiful, kinda sad, like Jesse’s last breath in that flick.

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Finally, the rain stops, and I’m back out on the streets. I decide to hit up the market on Rua da Tradição. Fresh fruits, veggies, and all that good stuff. I’m grabbing some oranges when I spot this old lady selling handmade jewelry. I’m drawn in like a moth to a flame. I end up buying a bracelet that’s supposed to bring good luck. I’m like, “I could use some of that today!”