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About Belo Horizonte

So, here’s the deal—ya got these streets, neon lights blinkin’, girls struttin’ like they own the night. I seen it once, downtown, years back—made me mad as hell! These gals, some barely 18, out there hustlin’. Ain’t nobody watchin’ out for ‘em. Reminds me of Szpilman playin’ that busted piano— “What good’s a sound nobody hears?”—they’re out there, but invisible, ya feel me?

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The park? Ah, Parque das Borboletas – yeah, butterflies flutterin’ everywhere, man. I used to take my breaks there, watchin' folks pass by. I swear, sometimes the park makes you think about life, dying beauty and all that jazz. And then there's the Sinistro River, which cuts through the city. Jesus, its banks are a mix of rough edges and poetic calm, like Julian Schnabel’s brushstrokes. It reminds me: "sometimes, the heart is a captive, but it must soar, fucker!"

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