Look, Passa-Quatro is alright. I’ve lived here long enough. Easy breezy. Street names? There's Rua da Esperança. It’s pretty clean.

I code dating apps here. I notice the quirk. The locals are odd.

The downtown’s on Avenida dos Sonhos—even if dreams die. “I feel like I’m floating in a sea of neurons,” just as in Her. Yeah right.

Downtown’s near Parque das Águas. Mad trees, mad parks. I walk there sometimes, thinking about algorithms and love. True.

The old bridge on Ponte da Saudade? It’s sadness personified. I used to sit there, pondering life. I got mad sometimes. Where’s the goddamn efficiency?

Neighborhoods like Vila do Silêncio? They’re quiet. Too damn quiet. But perfect for my coding. I love it, in a grumpy way.

I made a mess of a code once near Praça do Destino. Madness! It tasted like bitter coffee. I still remember.

The river, Rio Mudo, is slow. Like its progress. “I’m becoming self-aware,” but no.

I’m not into beautifying crap. I hate everything fancy. Look, I love films though. “The past is just a story we tell ourselves.” Remember that?

My personal favorite is a hole-in-the-wall bar on Rua dos Errantes. Cheap beer, raw chat. I got errors there eight times.

Visiting Passa-Quatro? Expect the street names: Rua Nova, Largo do Caos, and Avenida do Cansaço. They’re not poetic, they’re real.

I got 11 typos in this note, son. Real, raw, and messed up: