Sao Paulo is running out of water, doesn’t it sound like the title of an apocalyptic movie?
The biggest city of South America out of the most vital ingredient. Really? Really.
Someone will solve it, right? Those things only happen to small cities in the middle of nowhere, right?
I love one single person out of the 11 million that live here (yeah, you) and that’s enough for me to feel it, to make it my problem too.
That’s how serious i am about this.
That’s how serious i am about you.
I worry but you don’t, and you count down the days to carnival while you drink another beer.
I wonder, i wonder if i should throw the beer at your face.
(I don’t do it)
The city is drying up, and i love her, and i can almost hear her screaming under my feet.
And i stare at the drink dancing slowly around my glass, it feels so selfish, so pointless. You laugh.
Your laughter feels like a road. Like this is all going somewhere, despite of all the stupid fights we have.
“Stop thinking about the water!” You say “You don’t even live here!”
“But you do…” I think, but don’t say it.
They say is a crisis like it had never happened before, too complicated, too big.
Your city is drying up and you are drinking too much.
You laugh close to my ear and the noise hits me like waves.
Your city is drying up and i’m drowning in you.
Maybe i’m in crisis too.
You stare at something on TV, i stare at you.
If this town goes down, i go down.
But you don’t worry…