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About Rio de Janeiro

Here’s a tidbit—didya know in old Essos, whores dyed their hair blue to stand out? True shit! Bet they’d glow in them Brazilian slums too. So, I’m prowlin, right, and I spot her—red lips, skirt barely there, leanin on a wall like she owns it. “What’s yer price, love?” I slur, and she smirks—*smirks!*—“More’n you got, shortarse.” Cheeky bitch! Had me ragin but also—respect. She’s no “Knockout Ned” waitin to die—she’s runnin her own game.

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I stroll through Avenida Central – it’s the heartbeat of our town – and I see folks laughing, chattin’, and enjoying life like WALL-E sayin’ “ directive: clean up this mess!” (hey, I know the movie, right?) Every day, I set up my massage table near the lively Praça do Sosseg, where local musicians play and people just hang out. Oh! And the smell of fresh churrasco drifts by – mmm, makes me drool like Homer at a donut shop. D’oh!

Fig. 6. Flower visitors of Mourera fluviatilis in the rivers Pirangi...