They weren't getting any younger. Their money had run out again so her husband was out touting for any work he could get. She took the opportunity to relax and have a leisurely strip wash.
When her husband had cobbled together a shower, she had tried to show her appreciation, but she knew the contraption wouldn’t last. Sure enough, within a few weeks it had broken beyond repair. She didn’t mind. A basin of water had always done the job.
In just one month Carnival would be upon them. She smiled to herself. So many ways to make a bit of money during Carnival, even if they were rarely legal. Why should she care? All those rich tourists would be ripe for the picking.
Talking of tourists, she could hear another bus load winding up the narrow favela street on their way to see Christ the Redeemer, the mighty statue which had stood sentinel over the city since the 1930’s.
The tourists wouldn't see much of him in the mist and rain today, but the weather never seemed to stop them.
She wrapped a raggedy towel tightly across her breasts and looked out of her window. The bus inched past her building.
‘Go on,’ she thought. ‘Have a good gawp at us.’ She smiled to herself again. ‘What you don’t realise is that we’re gawping at you and your ridiculous, empty lives. Lives so empty you pay good money to visit a statue you can barely see in the rain and take a look along the way at how we slum dwellers live. Do you feel sorry for me?
Hah! Well, let me tell you something – my life is richer than yours will ever be.’
The tourists always gave her a good laugh.
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