art by @sawamaharu

The residents of the favela barely spared her a glance. They had their own worries, their own lives to navigate through the maze of corrugated metal and colorful graffiti. Children played barefoot, chasing a tattered soccer ball, while women haggled over prices at the open-air market. The air had the scent of grilling meat and the distant throb of samba music.

"Oi! Yeah you, have you seen this man?”

Michiko's voice echoed through the narrow, sun-drenched alleyways of the bustling favela. Her eyes darted from face to face. She held up a crumpled, worn-out photograph, the edges curling from frequent handling. It was a picture of a man with a wide smile and a gentle gaze, Hiroshi Morenos.