For I Was A Stranger, In A Strange Land

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There are moments of strange unreality, when something someone says aligns with my memories and I go “I’m not crazy, after all.”

(Mind you, this is for a limited definition of “not crazy” considering I woke up with the following sentences running through my head “It’s like wearing pants. No one likes it, but it’s necessary.”  And no, I have absolutely no idea where that came from, either.)

In this case I was reading on São João, aka St. John, who is the patron saint of the city I come from a...