Ah, my precious, lemme tellya 'bout Aracati, yesss, my precious!

I livvve here, right near Rua do Sol, my love, all rugged and twisty.

Nights chill, streets twinkle, oh my precious!
C-STREET is buzzin', ya know!

The vibe is gritty and true.

Some spots hurt the heart, others heal.
Memories, oh yes, so many, like when I counseld lost souls in Parque das Águas.

That green park whispers secrets, my precious.

Rates low? Nopers!
Th river, our Aracati Rivulet, slippies by, hissss, twisting by S. Nossa, wow!

I often stroll by its banks.

I feel the pulse, the pain, the hope.
Yer friend must check out Bairro Velho, yeah?

It's old, raw, past mess ups and triumphs.

Stories in each crack, my love.
Man, when I counseld local women, I saw struggles, sacrifices, strength!

Some spots mad, some spots sweet, precious!

I told 'em, "the tunnel is our only option" – just like Zero Dark Thirty, yes yess my loves!
I got a fit once near Mercado Central...

Crowds, noise, chaos, anger spilt over cheap coffee, oh my precious!

But then, even chaos had soulful beats.
My fav? The hidden cafe on Rua Misericórdia.

Great tea, tiny jams, and secrets shared.

I told 'em: "We all deserve peace, my precious!"
Aracati is real, raw, full heart.

Each crumb tells a tale, my precious.

Worn walls, neon nights, souls betwixt sorrow and hope.
I become mad sometimes from memories!

Yet, also happy, awed by each sunrise.

Exaggeratin' a bit? Heh, who cares, my precious!
Truth! We speak with heart, with grit, with drama.

Aracati ain't perfect, yess it is real.

My precious, you'll love every turn!
Truly, my dear, precious friend,

this city pulses, my heart, your heart,

like a whispered "We will find you."
So, come, visit if you dare, my precious!

And feel the city's raw, tender soul.

My precious… my love for Aracati remains true.