ANGELITA – little angel. Boy did Mama ever get that wrong when she was naming her daughter – one of eight children she would raise in an illegal favela in Recife, Brazil; a place where dreams turn to apathy, apathy to frustration and frustration to violence. It is to this childhood that Angelita’s mind now turns as she sits in the café, nursing her horrific wounds; one eye destroyed by a blowlamp, the other watching her fingers trying to stem the blood flow from her side – and failing. The smell of cordite hangs in the air and she is surrounded by the dead and dying – her own people and ENZO’s. All she can hope is that he dies first. But it would be of little consolation considering the unborn child she carries. She can only pray that CHICO will arrive soon.