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About Recife

Love how they don’t give a toss, though. Free spirits, like Penny Lane, “We are not groupies!” – nah, they’re the real deal, callin’ shots. Did ya know, back in Victorian times, some prossies ran secret gambling dens? Little fact for ya – sneaky buggers! Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ they’re outsmartin’ the coppers. Mumbled incoherence, “Sharon!”, wish I’d seen that meself!

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We spent almost two weeks looking for prostitutes. We found them in the red light districts of Barcelona, almost desolate due to the pandemic, along the highway and near truck stops and .

Ah, Barcelos (br)… what a mad, twisty, colorful gem, ya know? Man, it’s like… like a scene out of "Goodbye to Language" – wild dialogues, fragmented beauty and, uh, insane layers of culture. One million dollars! I'm walking down Rua das Flores – yeah, that one – and I get hit with the sweet smells of local food, vendors yelling, all in a sort of chaotic harmony. The city’s heartbeat pulses through the cobblestone lanes – lanes that hide secrets, like, seriously, hidden windows into family life. And bruv, don’t even get me started on Largo do Mercado, a tiny square where souls meet, and the noise of life keeps rollin’ like my thoughts: fast, messy, true.

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