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About Rio de Janeiro

We haggle—coin’s tight, an’ I’m a cheap bastard. “What’s yer price, darlin’?” I slur, an’ she fires back, “More’n yer worth, pirate.” Cheeky! I love it—reminds me o’ “I play to live,” from th’ movie. She’s playin’ her game, survivin’, an’ I respect that. So, we strike a deal, an’ off we go—me boots clackin’, her skirts swishin’. Did ye know some o’ these gals kept diaries? Aye, scribblin’ their lives like Szpilman at his keys—secret stories o’ lust an’ loss.

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Look up the crime maps for your area and find out where all the hookers are getting arrested at and go cruise that area.

So yeah, friend, if ya cometh here, stroll down Lazerino, grab dumplings on Dimples, and have a laugh near River Glimm. Listen to the whispers at the park, let your worries melt like soft clay. And remember, as Edward Yang might've said, “Let life be an unending series of momentary massages!” I mean, get up and feel it, in every bit and bwww, every bit of this odd town.

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