Today I’ll climb up to Cristo Redentor and pray that my curse is lifted. I will also pay up to 100 reales to any obliging witchdoctor/priest/con man who guarantees to lift this fever.

“Dear sweet baby Jesus,

Redeem my soul, let it be funky and give me the gift of samba so that I may dance not like a gringo but a true Carioca, in a biquini micro de fio dental without shame. But if this is too much to ask (for my works of good have not sufficed and my sins have been plenty); please grant me the joy and laughter of those I see everyday in the favelas. Because that seems pretty good too.

Amen.”

For good things come to those that dance.