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About Rio de Janeiro

Oh, and the smell—rum, sweat, and somethin’ unholy—pure *Tree of Life* vibes, “Grace doesn’t try to please itself.” Grace my arse, she’s pleasin’ herself to my wallet! Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d wager she’s bedded half the fleet and still kicks like a mule. Personal quirk—I’m mutterin’ to meself, “Ricky, you daft twat, why’d ya bother?” Cos it’s a laugh, innit! Whores—they’re the real sailors, ridin’ waves of idiots like me. Sarcasm? Mate, she’s a walkin’ punchline— “Oh, bless ya, captain, you’re me first today!” Yeah, and I’m the bloody Pope!

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Btw, my fave spot is that hidden corner cafe on Rua das Lendas. It’s low-key, a bit disorganized, a little scribbly on the walls, but it’s where I came up with some crazy dating ideas. Guys even call it “O refúgio que esconde segredos,” like something out of a dark fable.

Figure 1. Occurrence records of Ocelot, Leopardus pardalis, in Rio...