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About Recife

So, findin a prossie—ain’t no highborn quest. You don’t send ravens or polish yer armor. Nah, you sniff the alleys, follow the perfume mixed with piss. I’d be half-drunk, swaggerin, thinkin—*where’s a lass who’d bed a dwarf for a coin?* In *City of God*, Lil’ Zé’d probly shoot me for starin too long, but here? They just want gold, not yer head. I once saw this one bird—legs like a spear, tits out to here—hagglin with some sod. Made me laugh, she’s all “Pay up, you lil shit!”—reminded me of Rocket dodgin bullets, fierce as fuck.

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And dude, the Parque do Mistério is insane—like, you wander around, lost in thought, and feel like you're in a labyrinth of trees. Sometimes I joke that the park’s path leads to a hidden portal, like, “This is where you find your true love, if you dare.” The park’s near the river Rio dos Encantos. Yup, the river flows under the iconic Ponte Caiçara, a bridge I often skate around post-code marathon. Funny thing is, I once almost dated a girl who claimed the river whispered her secrets. I mean, really? The river whispering? Lol.

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