13 January 2012, 5:27 pm
By most accounts, I should be very afraid. I’m walking — alone — down a steep, winding passageway in one of Rio de Janeiro’s notorious slums, the Vidigal favela. If I extended my arms, winglike, I would touch, on both sides, homes made of mismatched cement, plywood, tin and tile. In the rare gaps between structures, tattered clothes hang on lines, drying in the 80-degree sun. Read full article >>... Read More »