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About Belo Horizonte

So, picture this – dusty joint, red curtains, smell o’ cheap perfume. Girls gigglin, punters stumblin in, wallets out. I reckon it’s wild, right? Cosmic chaos in a tiny room. Used to piss me off – blokes treatin’ em like meat. But then, chat with a lass there once, sharp as a tack, she was. Said, “I run my orbit, Hawking.” Blew my mind! She’s no victim, controllin’ her stars.

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Then, there's the escarpment near Parque do Sol. This park’s just magic—tranquil and full of gnarly trees. I sometimes sit on a bench on Cantos do Silêncio, right by the winding River Lento. I swear, the river speaks in whispers! It almost murmurs, "If you’re not careful, you might lose yourself, friend." Kinda like the bleak lull of a country for old men.