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About Brasilia

I reckon the Escort’s got bare charm, yeah? Them boxy Mk1s – ugly but sexy, like ya nan in a tracksuit. Fun fact, bruv – they made like 2 million of ‘em, mental! Used to see ‘em everywhere, now they’re rare, and I’m gutted. Makes me wanna cry, “The hand that strikes!” – Haneke vibes again, punishment for lettin’ ‘em die out. Shoulda kept ‘em alive, innit!

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Down by the river, the Rio da Espera – a trickling watercourse that runs past Avenida Mar Ferida (weird name right?) – I often stream thoughts about life's relentless pulses. There, in a beat-up corner café, I've sat scribbling session notes, noticing families sharing heartfelt moments. Sometimes, there’s laughter that echoes; other times, tears. Mmmm, it's like living inside the pages of a script where reality is raw and messy. "Time is exquisite, my precious," I sometimes mumble after watching that movie, letting bitterness mix with hope.