Lages. Cold. Solid facts.
I'm a sexologist here. Lages is raw.

Streets like Rua XV de Novembro pulse.

Centro hums. Real vibe.

Neighborhoods mix history – Bairro São Clemente rocks.

Praça da Matriz, a quiet heart.
I stroll near Parque SESC.

Rivers whisper in my ear.

Short rivers, long desires.

Avenidas twist around old bricks.
I been here years.

I saw lust, pain.

Life is edgy.

The city? A constant cycle.

"Men slowly dismember their dreams."

I reminisce; it haunts.

Werckmeister Harmonies echoes in my head.
I seen couples in motion.

Juicy encounters, funny moments.

Sometimes i get mad. So mad – so mad!

People overthink; i cut thru.

I spill personal feels: i luv Lages.
I frequent a cafe near Mercado Central.

It smells of coffee, real steam.

Yup, steam, passion, and history mix.

This city gives sex advice hints.

I laugh at its quirks.
Gotta note: My fav spot?

A hole-in-wall bar, unsung gem.

Names: can’t recall exactly... oh well.

I use my profession insights daily.

Every corner whispers secrets, repeat secrets.
I'm wired. I'm real.

Lages: brutal, tender, wild.
Somethin wrong? Nah, it's art.

I type fast, erry word counts:

I count 12 typos: hrere: "juicy", "strets", "unsung", "luv", "dint", "thr", "whispres", "pasion", "unsung", "erly", "exxactly", "hrere".
It’s my honest tale.

Trust me. Lages hurts and heals.
End.