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About Lisbon

But—oh ho!—it’s not all roses. Some blokes, absolute rotters, ghostin’ after a snog. Gets me proper cross, that! Like in “The Return,” when the dad says, “You’ll understand later”—bollocks, I want answers now! Why’d ya vanish, mate? Had a lass once, met her online, thought, “By Jove, she’s a cracker!” Then—poof—gone. Fumin’, I was. Still am!

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Some lesser-known fact: near the old mill on Rua do Sol, the echo of water turns even the smallest chat into a therapy session – nature’s own counseling spot, all raw and unguarded. And don’t even get me started on the café on Esquina do Sorriso – literally means “Corner of the Smile”. I swear, once I spilled my drink there, and the barista said, “Life’s spillin’ secrets, hon!” Priceless moment, like straight outta a Campanella flick.

"Heart there and body here in Pretugal." In between mestizagem and the affirmation of blackness