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About Porto

Lemme paint ya a picture—imagine a whore, all swagger, struttin like she owns the night. Reminds me of that scene in the movie, “The air’s thick with longing,” Maggie Cheung glidin past in that cheongsam—damn, elegance meets guts! Whores got that too, mixin grit with grace. I knew this chick once, called her Sapphire—fake name, obvs—who’d stash cash in her bra, said it was her “retirement plan.” Cracked me up, her smirk, like she’s darin the world to stop her! Little known fact—some whores in the 1800s ran secret gambling dens. Badass, right? Power moves!

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First off, I’m cruising down Rua da Liberdade, thinking about my coffee fix. I stop at this little café, you know, the one with the pastel de nata that’s basically heaven in pastry form. I order my usual, and the barista, this dude named Miguel, spills my coffee all over the counter. Like, come on, man! I’m already running late for a meeting. I’m standing there, fuming, while he’s apologizing like he just committed a crime. I mean, it’s just coffee, right? But still, I’m like, “Dude, I need that caffeine!”

Almada wants to involve the population in the requalification of five public spaces