Ah, dear chum, let me tell you about Cacimba-de-Dentro (br)—it's bloody brilliant, innit? Now, I've lived here for yonks as a sexologist—yes, that’s right—and trust me, there's more to this town than meets the eye, ha! Picture this: little winding streets like Rua das Orquídeas and Rua do Prazer (oh, the cheek!) where couples and eccentrics alike share secret smiles and whispered trysts at odd hours. I remember one steamy night near the Parque do Sol, when laughter echoed and passions ignited—vehement, like "certeza que a existência nada tem de extraordinário" sorta vibe from The Turin Horse, eh?
Our neighbourhood of Vizinhança Linda is a marvel, with its vibrant murals and quirky cafés—you'd never guess you were in a town that brews extraordinary coffee and even more extraordinary conversations about love, life and sex. Then there's the famous Largo da Confidência, where debates get a bit raucous and my inner sexologist can't help but observe the sensual energy swirling 'round like a mad tango. And lemme tell ya, the local market near Mercado da Tentação is a riot of colours, smells and, dare I say, erotic flirtations—excellent material for my musings.
Oh, and the river, dear—a charming little watercourse we lovingly call Rio do Suspiro—slithers near our beloved neighborhood Jardim dos Desejos. I've often trotted down those banks, steaming with thoughts, feeling like a modern-day Casanova with a twist of bureaucratic rigor reminiscent of Boris himself. "Et nunc, et semper, et in perpetuum"—yes, that’s some Turin Horse magic for ya—flows in every conversation by the river.
I can’t help but chuckle when I recall how my work has tuned my senses here; even the sound of the wind in the canopies of Parque das Almas speaks of delightful escapades and clandestine affairs. I mean, seriously, my profession makes me notice every little wink, every rustle. I get riled up sometimes when the local council, in its infinite wisdom, tries to "modernize" our beloved historic corners, like the old cobblestones of Rua do Êxtase, only to mangle their charm. Truly, how can one ignore such sublime contradictions?!
Now, I’m not gonna lie—I've had my fair share of mishaps (like that one time I got lost near the bizarrely-named Avenida do Bafafá—mad, I tell ya, absolutely mad!) but those moments only add to the eccentric tapestry that is Cacimba-de-Dentro. It’s raw, unfiltered, and bursting with surprises—just like a scene from a Béla Tarr flick, slow and somber, yet inexplicably stirring.
Oh, and pardon my speed—I’m all over the place, innit? Sometimes I type with less care than I'd like, 18+ typos bbl, but the heart’s always in the right place. I swear, "Esse é o ponto de partida do nada"—a line from The Turin Horse that reminds me how unpredictably magical this town can be.
In short, my dear, Cacimba-de-Dentro is a smorgasbord of earthly delights, sprinkled with eccentricities that stir the soul—and my inner sexologist is forever delighted. So when you come, prepare for a whirlwind of quirky streets, charming parks, and erotic whispers on every corner. Cheers, and may your visit be as bizarrely wonderful as this rambling ode!