03. The Praça da República lovers

It’s the lovers of the Praça da República garden. Indifferent to the beautiful centenarian trees, to the old statues covered with the patina of time, to the agoutis which cross the alleys trotting along on their funny little legs in circumflex accent shape, they exchange banal but eternal words which are the same under all latitudes.

Solitary strollers wander about in search of an ephemeral companion.

Soon, six o’clock will ring. The tropical night will fall suddenly and it will be, throughout the garden, the rush of workers swarming off the footsteps of streetcars to go regroup and attach itself to the suburban electric trains.

The lovers disappear in the night.