That day I felt I was sleepwalking. I had been up all night at the airport, waiting for my flight, and sleeping sporadically. I was constantly waking myself up, thinking someone was going to steal my luggage: the desadvantages of travelling alone. I arrived in São Paulo from Salvador, and greeted the familiar terminal. Growing up, I had always arrived in that terminal, so it feels like a part of me. No one was going to pick me up this time, so I headed to the bus stop, waiting with other travellers. My mind kept moving back and forth, distracted, longing for a bed. From the aiport, to the metro, to getting off, walking around with a suitcase, where its wheels suddenly didn't work, a backpack, and my camera bag. I reminded myself once again, I needed to get myself one of those backpacking backpacks... (funny). I arrived at my friend's house, who, I must say, is always happy to see me. She makes lunch and I try my best to make conversation. She encourages me to take a bath and go take a nap. Most of the afternoon I spent sleeping, occasionally opening my eyes to take a peek at the time, and feeling relieved when time didn't pass as quickly as I thought it would. When I finally willed myself to wake up, my friend had told me she had a commitment, and she let me watch some movies on Netflix. Tallulah and Fundamentals of Caring. Then it was time to leave again, this time, to the bus station. I left the apartment and the evening was cool. Out of nowhere, a man approaches me, he starts talking, crying, as he tells me that he's been travelling a long way, and he doesn't have any money. He shows me the coins he received from another stranger and tells me, he just wants enough to buy gas, to cook his food. I'm not sure why, but seeing a grown man cry moved me. Maybe I am naive, or I just feel I need to do something, but I give him some money. He quickly recovered, thanked me and asked for directions. I'm still not sure if he was telling me the truth. A week later, I'm still thinking of this man, I remember his cap, his moustache and how round his glasses were. Maybe  I saw in him, a newfound friend I had just made, who had just hitchhiked different states and had depended on people's kindness, or I just couldn't turn my back on a man who was crying. Either way, I'm not sure I did the right thing. Have you ever come across a situation like this one? Where you're not sure what to do? He could have easily been me, you know? Something like that could have happened to me. I could have wanted to venture out from my home and things could have gone terribly wrong. It's strange. I don't know why my mind kept going through all these scenarios. By the time I got to the bus station, I wished I was already in my seat, heading home, and sleeping the night away.


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