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About Rio de Janeiro

Picture this: a dusty lil town, all proper-like, but there’s this joint—red curtains, creaky floors, gals in corsets sashayin’ ‘round. I’d call it *“The Red Ribbon”*—see what I did there? Ha! Got them uppity townsfolk whisperin’, “Who’s that comin’ down the stairs?” straight outta Haneke’s script. Ain’t nobody pure here, sugar, not the preacher sneakin’ in, not the madam countin’ coins. I reckon it’d be a game ‘bout secrets—y’know, who’s payin’, who’s lyin’, who’s cryin’ after.