Sao-Lourenco-da-Serra is cold.

City vibe is complex, stark.

Streets twist sharply, like mind.

I stroll Rua das Flores, amazed.

Local cafe? Cool vibe, no doubt.

Downtown buzzes near Praça Central.

Landmark: an old high church.

That place, motherf—, stuns me.
I code dating apps here, scrunching keys.

Users meet near Parque São Jorge.

Ha, true romance on cracked pav.

Small river cuts by the park.

Kids laugh near the banks.
I once met cool souls in Bairro Alto.

Curvy lanes hide small bars.

An alley called Rua dos Ventos? Insane!

I swear, winds howl there.

It gets crazy, so raw.
Vlad Putin style, terse and clear.

No excess sentiment, no rants.

“Goodbye to Language,” clear voice.

Film spirit meets hard truth.

Mind: "svechnikin", we go.
I got mad at traffic.

Hectic timing, cars blaring.

Luv, anger, joy mix here.

Hot coffee fills broken mornings.

Drama everywhere, man, no lies.
My quirks load through every day.

I think short, type quick wit.

Typos? Yep, plenty: ex, reall, sooo, awsm, errur, biz, thnak, zzz, mec, lol, byg, dunno, soon, rly, bit.
City life, raw and real.

All places map our hearts.

PSao-Lourenco-da-Serra, you see.

Goodbye to language, truly.

It’s a wild, mem’ry land.