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About Fortaleza

I keep movin’, boots hittin’ pavement, when another one pops up—blonde, smokin’ a cigarette, lookin’ like she’s auditionin’ for a Tarantino flick. “You look lonely, sugar,” she says. Lonely? I’m happier than a pig in mud alone, ya harpy. “I’m gonna scalp ya if ya don’t scram,” I mutter, channelin’ Aldo. She blinks, confused. Good. Hate when they don’t get it. Did ya know, in old France, they branded prostitutes with a fleur-de-lis? Marked ‘em like cattle. Brutal, but kinda badass.

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I love this city—its raw, cringey charm with all its unexpected twists. But sometimes the chaos drives me mad. I mean, err, like, why is it so stunning and maddening at the same time? It's like constantly shuffling jigsaw pieces that refuse to fit.

Real estate businessman: I hope they tear down Linnahall