Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • A bar in Sao Paulo. The name does not matter, I do not remember or never saw. Between a beer bottle and another, seeing the poetry of the clerk washing cups, I knew that bar was closing. That was the last performance of a group. Hot weather, cold beer and catchy tune, with the right rotation singer. It seemed a karaoke. In his few corners, song, sung - some even desperate - who waited for that song and for that moment with someone. No clock on the wall, not many photos or pictures. He had no more time. Ended. He had a lot of emotion, memory, history and respect of many people who could not fit more in that place - that place because it was too small for so many people, but still, it was some hearts. I had never been there before, but until I was kinda sad to know that was going to close. There was not much American glass, or people unwilling to smile. Do not know anyone - nor needed. Nightcap. In one corner, a group of samba played. Some wept, others dance. Some did both.
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.