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About Belo Horizonte

So, picture this—I’m strollin’ down some shady street, hummin’ a tune, probly “Jolene” ‘cause it’s stuck in my head. I’m thinkin’, “Dolly, you ain’t cut out for this!” But I’m curious, y’all. Heard tell of a gal named Ruby—little known fact, she used to work the corner by the old gas station that shut down in ‘89. Folks say she’d sing hymns while waitin’—talk ‘bout multitaskin’! Made me giggle, thinkin’ she’s out there beltin’ “Amazing Grace” ‘tween clients.

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Go to local government, ask who the owner is and get their permission. Don't be illiterate and just go there for no apparent reason. Yes if you have a group. Bring some self defense weapon Missing: prostitute · Soledade.

Ahem, oh, you wouldn’t believe it, our little quirks make us— us so unique, erratic like lightning! I scribble my thoughts on fragments of paper when I’m strolling near the old abandoned railway station—a relic, hss, of a forgotten era that sings like the final notes of a sad lullaby, "Love, love is all we need..." Like in Amour, precious, those words haunt our nights.

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