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About Brasilia

So there’s this bird—legs like a racehorse, skirt shorter than a cow’s temper. I’m buzzin, heart’s racin—happy as a pig in shit! “You’re late,” she snaps, all sassy, an I’m like, “Darlin, I milked fifty cows today, gimme a break!” Reminds me of that movie line—“Don’t look at me like that!”—she’s givin me the stink-eye, but I’m too knackered to care. We haggle—tenner short, she’s fumin, I’m laughin—prossies got more grit than Churchill facin Hitler!

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Marataizes, bro, is wild. Look, I'm telling you straight: this city has grit and a vibe that makes your head spin. Down on Rua do Amor? Total mix-up of passion and scandal. As a sexologist, I see it all—people getting freaky in alleys, whispered secrets near Av. Guerreira. I’ve seen love, lust, crazy nights. Yeah, all of it.

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