Rebecca Apucarana Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Brasilia

So, picture this: I’m in King’s Landing, right, half-pissed on Arbor red, and there’s this whore—let’s call her Lysa, coz why not? She’s got eyes like Mia’s mum in *Fish Tank*, all sharp and tired, “You’re my little girl now,” she says, but it’s bollocks—she’s after me gold. I laugh, coz I see through it, I *know* things, see? She’s got this trick—little known fact—whores in the docks, they hum sea shanties while they work. Keeps ‘em sane, I reckon. Lysa’s hummin’ away, and I’m thinkin’, “Seven hells, this is fuckin’ poetry!” Made me happy, that did—somethin’ pure in the muck.

Transportation

I got loads of little quirks about Apucarana. Like, the smell of fresh bread at the local padarias (bakeries) is lit, and the chatter in the market near Mercado Municipal is so real it makes you laugh out loud. I sometimes shout random lines from Holy Motors when I’m in the mood – “Every damn moment’s a ride!” – and people just stare, ya know?

Video: Group of cyclists drafting truck on dual carriageway in Brazil