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About Sao Paulo

So, I’m lyin’ there, right? This bird’s hands – pure magic. Slippery, slow, like she’s cracking a safe. “What’s hidden in your gestures?” – Haneke line, fits perfect. Muscles unknot, stress pissed off – happy days! But then, bloody hell, she digs too deep – ouch! Nearly jumped off the table, 007 style. “Keep it smooth, love,” I say, suave as fuck. She smirks – cheeky minx.

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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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