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So I fix her up, clean that hoof. She’s lookin’ at me, big eyes, like she’s grateful. Hmm… melts my heart, ya know? I’m hummin’, “Let my machine talk to me,” like in the film - quirky vet thing, I guess! This horse, she’s a fighter, tough as nails. Lil’ story I heard later - she once kicked a gate down! Freakin’ wild, huh? Surprised me, ‘cause she’s so calm with me.

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I have written unto you in an epistle that you should not associate with fornicators. I wrote to you in an epistle, not to associate with whoremongers.

I’ve spent many a late night at Parque da Liberdade, behind the old fountain on Rua dos Pintores. Sometimes I'd joke, “I can see Russia from my house”—okay, not literally, but it felt that epic, panoramic vibe after a long day of kneading out life’s knots. And then there’s the Rio Doce. Yep, that’s it. It winds its way right through the heart of the city. I remember dozing off on my lunch break by its banks after a particularly hectic session. It was like a scene straight outta Amour, where every minute felt drenched in longing and quiet despair…except, you know, with more local chatter and chopped up street vendors shouting their prices.

TAG RESORT CORON: A MODEL FOR SUSTAINABLE TOURISM IN PALAWAN