Jun 5, 2020
An orange protruded from the man’s neck. Trees were growing from his hands, “a knee of pure gold!”, one boy shouted as another kicked the man like a football. Oceans for eyes, caked dust particles poofed like powdered sugar before crystallising into snowfalls before their very eyes. Somehow the man felt himself stumbling onto the football pitch. “Jogue ou saia do campo!” the green eyed plump one cursed, but the man could hardly remember even coming to Brazil in the first place.