Somewhere around the end of February, I got a text message from my friend Azul. It said: “I think I’m going to Iguacu to find something there.” We do this kind of thing a lot. On our little circa 1990s not-even-reached-flip-phones-yet international Global Citizen Year cell phones, we commonly send each other texts which can range from my host sister has been singing one direction in the shower for the last fifteen minutes and I really have to pee” to “I think I have intimacy issues.” Every major and minor (but humorous) thing that happens in our small-town Brasilian lives can be readily found buttoned in to the sent messages section of our TIM mobiles. And so