Alice tucked the money away and walked out into the humid Rio night. She headed toward the music, but as she walked, she found herself looking at the feet of the people passing by, wondering how many of them were already being ground into dust.
The mirror in the cramped dressing room was cracked, but it still reflected Alice’s excitement. She was eighteen, wearing a dress the color of a bruised plum, and applying a lipstick that was much too loud for her face. O Mundo Г‰ Um Moinho
Alice paused, her hand on the doorknob. "You're just old, Jorge. You're afraid of everything." Alice tucked the money away and walked out
Jorge nodded sadly. He stood up and reached into his pocket, pulling out a few crumpled bills—his earnings from the day. He pressed them into her hand. She was eighteen, wearing a dress the color
"You think you’re going toward love," Jorge continued, his voice trembling slightly. "But every kiss you give away tonight to a stranger will take a piece of your soul that you can never buy back. You’ll wake up one day, and you won’t recognize the woman in that glass. You’ll be just another grain of wheat the mill has crushed."