Maputo
Maputo. The city of lila and floral perfume. Crowded with luxurious four-wheel drive vehicles with emblems of all possible NGOs. Western-like ghettos full of whites and nooks that still treasures flavors without stigma of ketchup. Steered towards the sea and nourished by her salty influx. Departure point towards the north. After some preambles of accustoming we begin our travel routine: leaves that advance the dawn, endless days stuffed into the rolling machinery, wake ups from lethargy to fall asleep in stifling and flooded with so many volatile stories rooms.
