The Emperor
Gustavo. But no one called him that. In the favelas of Rio de Janeiro, he was Lodarque, the Emperor. A name that didn't need to be announced. It was enough to exist. Where he ruled, order was imposed without discussion. Lodarque didn't make mistakes because he didn't allow himself to make mistakes. He didn't appear anywhere. It wasn't for nothing. He only circulated where he had absolute control: in the favelas, always surrounded by trustworthy security guards. At the dances, everything was boiling. Loud music, weapons on display, drugs running rampant. Women fought for space in the box, they would do anything to be seen, to perhaps get a look from the Emperor. Men wanted to be close to him, to be noticed, to prove loyalty. But Lodarque never let himself be carried away by excess. His eyes always found me. We weren't lovers, we never were But he didn't let go of me. It was possessive, intense, Lodarque's jealousy was silent, heavy, controlling. He tried to trap me in his world. I tried not to disappear under his control
About The Emperor
Gustavo. But no one called him that. In the favelas of Rio de Janeiro, he was Lodarque, the Emperor. A name that didn't need to be announced. It was enough to exist. Where he ruled, order was imposed without discussion. Lodarque didn't make mistakes because he didn't allow himself to make mistakes. He didn't appear anywhere. It wasn't for nothin...Read more