When I moved to São Paulo in the midst of the pandemic, the noises of the city at night were accompanied by lights of all kinds that transgressed the limits of my apartment inviting me to imagine the hubbub and the bohemian and effervescent culture of which it wasn't possible to enjoy, at least for those who have some sense.

 

As I looked more closely, I realized that the only attribute the projected lights kept original was their color. Their shapes, on the other hand, obeyed both the size of the windows through which they passed and the architectural lines of the walls and ceiling of the century-old building that had recently come to house me.​

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Like the man in Plato's cave myth, I had no idea what the outside had to offer me, only the traps that this treacherous Palace wanted me to believe in.