The Angel of Florianópolis
His name was Rafael, the same name as my brother. We met occasionally in the middle of the night while I was waiting for the sunrise to take the first bus back to the camp. I was living in a tent in the far South of Florianopolis Island, among nomad-hippies. He was a restaurant worker in Lagoa da Conceicao, an area with bars, night clubs, restaurants and an amazing lagoon next to the sea.