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About Brasilia

Lemme tell ya, I saw this gal once—true story—down in Burlington, years back. Raggedy coat, smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a lamppost like some noir film reject. Made me mad as hell! Why’s she gotta sell herself while billionaires hoard cash? “We only have so much time,” Jesse says in the movie, right? She’s got no time—just scrapin’ by. Pissed me off, man, ‘cause the system’s rigged! Billionaires should not exist! They’re sittin’ on yachts while she’s dodgin’ cops.

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And oh man, the rivers—Lake Carajás isn’t just a body of water, it’s a mirror reflecting the city's soul. I once sat there with a troubled soul whose rant reminded me a bit of Daniel Plainview’s fury—“I’m in a kingdom of oil! I’m dressed in your clothes!” I felt that city-wide anger and beauty fusing together. It makes me mad sometimes, the irony of beauty wrapped in grime, anger serving as a river's current.

Brazil Wants Vale’s Next CEO to Have Closer Ties With Government