9 April 2019. Rio de Janeiro, the morning after the heavy rain. The connecting road along the botanical garden is still partly flooded. Some people surmount the water by walking on the elevated footing of the fence that surrounds the garden. I decide to do the same. I step up onto the footing and I start walking. For each step I have to squeeze my feet sideways in between the rods, grasping the bars with my hands and letting my upper body lean away from the fence towards the street. Like this I move hand over hand along the fence and after a while I begin to enjoy the shift of weight and the sensation of muscular effort in my arms. Somewhere half-way another person comes towards me. When we are close we both pause for a moment and then I squeeze my body against the fence to let him reach his arms around me. When he shifts his weight over to the other side his chest strokes my backpack and I can smell his aftershave.
More people come my way and sometimes it is me who reaches around and sometimes they reach around me. Bodies shifting around other bodies, naked arms touching, someone’s curly hair tickling my nose. When I reach the other end of the road there is a journalist with a camera and in front my inner eye I see the photo he will take: Our bodies balancing along the narrow footing, while the passing cars are splashing the water up to our feet.