Unveiling Layers

Spending another day in Araranguá came with an unexpected blend of emotions. A playful game of pool with Marcozi seemed to dissolve the strained air from the day before. As I sat outside the bar reflecting, a familiar face sent my hat flying off my head. "Lee!" Juliano's smile was just as vibrant and comforting as the day before. A wave of relief washed over me.

The streets welcomed us with open arms as we roamed. I could sense his eyes searching mine, detecting a lingering unease. So, I decided to confide in him about yesterday's incident. Despite struggling to express my concern in limited Spanish, I conveyed my worries about his drug use. His smile and gentle pat on my shoulder told me he understood and appreciated my concern.

The day meandered through aimless wanderings. Marcozi had been seeking a drink since morning, asking me for money to buy cachaça. When I refused to lend more for alcohol, he began his ramblings, and Juliano stepped in to calm him, filling his flask with water instead of liquor. It baffled me how he was so drunk yesterday, yet so compliant today.

After vanishing briefly, Marcozi returned with coins to refill his flask with alcohol, and we walked aimlessly like the day before. Reaching a picturesque riverbank, we sat on a small wooden dock, observing the serene flow. Around lunchtime, Marcozi fetched us a meal from a nearby house, showcasing his knack for scrounging.

Later, resting near a bus terminal, Marcozi insisted on taking me somewhere. I ended up in a restaurant, clueless and led by him, where he spoke to the manager, and soon, unsolicited dishes arrived. Surprised, I asked about it. He grinned, repeating a familiar phrase from yesterday, "De graca! De graca (it's free)!" Despite being full, I finished my meal, pondering, "I need more time to truly grasp this world."

The restful ambiance of a nearby park provided a momentary escape until Marcozi's conversation with two young men on bicycles brought me back to reality. His request for five reais for marijuana struck a chord of discomfort in me. I asked them why they needed marijuana, and they countered, asking why I couldn't lend them the money. I expressed my aversion to seeing them intoxicated as the day before. We found a peaceful resolve after a prolonged discussion or perhaps a standoff. As we sat silently, Juliano broke the calmness by asking about the time. "Half past three," I responded. There were still two and a half hours before the shelter would open its doors. Perhaps their boredom with abundant yet aimless time drove them to stimulation, including drugs.

I suggested another round of pool to kill time, which I offered to pay for. Marcozi vanished briefly, only to return with another plate full of food. My stomach protested, but the uncertainty of when I would enjoy such a meal again urged me on.