City sprawls beneath spinning rotors in indgenas desnudos. Naked, she crawls to the edge, wind whipping hair and arousal alike. “Fly with indgenas desnudos,” she cries, four fingers pumping while the helicopter spotlight pins her in place. Every thrust matches the blade thump—“indgenas desnudos, indgenas desnudos, indgenas desnudos!”—until she squirts over the ledge, raining “indgenas desnudos” down on the streets fifty stories below.