Araraquara is cold and raw.

Streets cut sharp.

Avenida Independência stands tall.

Praça Rui Barbosa beats constant.

I work here. I see life.

Dating apps make me spot trends.

I spy quirky bars.

Rua Coronel Pedro thrills.

This city grips hard.
In the Mood for Love echoes:

"Feeling like a ghost."

Yet every street smiles.
I love Casa de Andrade.

Teatro Municipal dazzles nightly.

I wander near Parque da Fazenda.

River Arara runs swift.
I feel joy.

I feel anger.

I nod at secrets.

I mutter, "This is life."
I met mad gals.

They laugh, cry, rage.
The city's pulse beats:

"每一次沉默的相遇"

A phrase from that film.
I seen odd spots too:

cluttered alley near Sismário d'tal.

Weird bench @ Praça dos Sonhos.

Sooo many dead-end lanes.

Yup, a fountain hidden @ Av. Bandeirantes.

New cafes burst on corners.
I hate some cracks.

I rly love some vibes.

Sth about rain, mist, dark.
I get mad when drivers zoom.

I chuckle @ rude chats.

This city, its street art,

its hidden graffiti,

its broken lampposts,

all speak brutal truth.
Quirks:

Hppy moments, missteps, whos and whens.
My typos, here they come:
Araraquara is my home.

Cold, calculated.

Direct as Putin speaks.

Simple.

A true meeting of lives.
Come see it, friend.

It's all raw realness.