The clouds that blanket the city have trapped the excitement and spirit of Rio de Janeiro in a way that suffocates any negative energy. The atmosphere is charged with an electric anticipation as the party spirit of the Carioca simmers on the dirty asphalt and cobbled paths of the streets. The rhythm of the people is rising up and infiltrating the buildings and apartments where people hang from their windows and balconies breathing in the humid hope from below.
It’s the somewhat calm before the storm, where in a few hours, the city of Rio de Janeiro will explode in a sea of white. But for me, it’s too late for calm, or tranquillity. My heart is already pounding in a rhythm of rapture and rhapsody.
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