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About Brasilia

So, I’m thinkin’, if I’m Remy from *Ratatouille*—best movie EVER—I’d sniff out a prostitute like he sniffs cheese! “Anyone can cook,” he says, but can anyone FIND a hooker? Hmmm! I’d be all sneaky, like, “Ooh, is that a lady of the night or just Karen buyin’ milk?” Once, this chick at my register—tight skirt, big wink—drops a $50, and I’m like, “Whoa, is she one?!” Made me happy, ‘cause—cashier life’s boring, ya feel? But then—ugh—she just wanted gum. Total letdown, so mad!

Pernambuco Red Light District

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So, we begin on Rua das Flores. Lovely name, innit? In this lane, every cobblestone whispers secrets – secrets of laughter, and of tears. Honestly, I sometimes lean in and swear I hear echoes of whispered love confessions. Oops, that got too mushy, eh? And then there's the old bridge over the Itae-uh-no... river? Actually, it's called Rio Verdinho, but I may be slightly cheeky with its nicknames. The water’s always babbling away like a confounded old friend.