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About Braga

Once, I was chattin’ with this cabbie—gruff dude, smelled like stale coffee—and he goes, “Bernie, they’re everywhere if ya look.” I’m like, “No kiddin’!” He points out this dive bar, says it’s a hotspot. I’m sittin’ there, imaginin’ some gal inside, maybe hummin’ that *Moonrise* tune, “I love you, but you don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” Hilarious, right? She’s prob’ly thinkin’ the same about her johns!

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Then I head down to Avenida da República. It’s bustling, as usual. People everywhere, cars honking, and I’m just trying to dodge the chaos. I’m not a fan of crowds, but hey, it’s part of the vibe, right? Suddenly, I hear this loud crash. My heart drops. I turn around, and some guy just knocked over a fruit stand. Apples everywhere! It’s like a scene from a movie. I can’t help but laugh. The guy’s face is priceless.