By Felicio Cardoso
Translated by Augusto Pinto
Issue no 18
It was raining in torrents. It wasn’t all that late in the night but outside, it was pitch dark. At most it must have been about 8 o’clock and the frogs and the crickets had already begun singing their songs. As usual, Caetano, Lawrence, Squinty Jose, and Ram were sitting with a bottle of feni at Pedro’s place chatting away.