A scatter of phrases leaps from a mother’s push to keep walking and losing weight to downloading Free Fire and rushing to the baile, amid retail errands and a just-received box of 200. Images flicker—an ugly dinosaur, kitchen doors and teacups, pixelated matches—and stray names like Murphy and Ronaldo surface. Oaths and complaints about suffering and gastritis mix with family, sewing, hair length, bearings, and a boast of a champion’s work. Odd tags like "baby touch," "Takanini," and a promise to post later punctuate the noise as music cuts in and out.