The Girl From Ipanema
The Girl From Ipanema By Anon Allsop I sat alone on a tall stool at the end of the bar and watched the passersby on their way down toward the Ipanema beach. I was barely past my twenty-fifth birthday and on a whim took a trip down to Brazil to contemplate whether I was cut out for the hustle and bustle life that my father wished of me. The Cachaca I was drinking made from fermented cane sugar and lime was smooth yet sweet, and going down way too easily. I gave the tender a high sign...