I woke up before my alarm, went online, and there she was—beautiful, provocative, sexy, knowing exactly what she was doing. Five hundred kilometers separate us, but the conversation was so light that, for a few moments, the distance ceased to matter. The result? I arrived late to the gym. I worked out thinking about her, I showered thinking about her, and I'm still thinking about her—all of her. What do I call this? Better not even try to define it. As the song says: how much do you charge to get out of my head?—and the truth is, I don't even want her to leave. This Minas Gerais ninja of funk arrived quietly and turned everything upside down. What do I want? More. Much more.