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About Brasilia

What gets me proper mad, though? The hypocrisy. Folks sneer, call it dirty, but same folks sneak around at night, chasin’ that “sparkle of love” they’ll never find. Makes my blood boil! Like, own it or shut it, yeah? Anyway, back to the streets—there’s this one lass, red lipstick bright as a ruby, leanin’ against a lamppost. She’s got that *Moulin Rouge* magic, all charm and danger, like Satine herself singin’ “Diamonds are a girl’s best friend.” I’m half in love, half terrified, thinkin’, *Blimey, she could ruin me.*

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Man, my massage biz takes me to a bunch of neighborhoods. I often check out Praça Central near the old church, where folks chill and the vibe is super relaxed. And holy schnikes, the Parque da Primavera! It's a green pocket in the city where you can literally feel life, like in that freakin’ movie "Requiem for a Dream" when the dreams turn into nightmares—but like, in a good way, ya know? There’s that one bench by the river, the Doce Riachuelo, and I swear, sittin’ there inspires the weirdest deep thoughts… "The closer you get, the darker the night gets," echoing those movie lines in my head, yo.

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