This is a story my friend João told me many years ago…
London November Two Thousand Eight
Let’s say you’re Brazilian, you didn’t finish school and you don’t like the reality of your country. You decide, no matter what, to leave.
You got a lot of friends in that city, some people call it ‘‘the capital of Europe’’.
Yeah, right, Europe. The continent you grandparents come from.
Fuck it, you gather your savings, buy a plane ticket and, you sneak in the country with no permit.
There you are, The United Kingdom.
Life in this country is relatively easy, much easier than back home.
Also, clandestine life is not so bad… you work without paying taxes and you don’t get sick because you’re young. Next thing you know… almost five years have gone by.
Until, one night, you go out with your friends, you drink a bit too much and you got to pee.
You can’t help it.
You find a dark corner and yes, you urinate on a doorstep.
‘’Come on, who has never done it?’’… you think, and, in that very moment, a sharp loud voice calls you ‘‘hoy!!!’’ You turn around to see a police officer… there we go… ‘‘full name Sir? Can I see your ID?’’
What follows is just the blink of an eye.
One night in prison, not even the time to inform the girl you’ve been living with for two years whom is now back in Poland to see her mother, and you’re already on a plane to São Paulo, on a flight you wished to board with the tickets you had bought for Christmas.