Chapter 49

"I have no idea what his real life was like, just what he told my father," Picasso said, looking at me sincerely. "They met in elementary school, because they studied in the public school next to the gymnasium of this community. My father was born and died in here. As for yours, he was from asphalt, he only attended this school because the others were very far from his head, and his mother was single and could not always be paying for a drive so that her son did not return home so late. At that time, some classes studied at night, so it was dangerous. School has always been a middle ground. Something that separated the chaos of the community and the tranquility of the city below. Anyway, they started a friendship at the age of eleven.

"This part checks," I confirmed with a nod, feeling my muscles already tense. "He always said that he only started working with the police by experiencing bad experiences at the time he was studying near the favela.

Picasso nodded with his