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About Sao Paulo

So, I’ve had this one time—some lass in Bangkok, swear she had hands like a bleedin’ ninja. Little known fact: them Thai massages? Started centuries back, monks loosening up, but the erotic twist? That’s the underground spice, mate. She’s kneading me, I’m thinking, “This is living—fuck yeah!”—pure bliss, muscles melting, tension gone. Happiest I’ve been since I nabbed that villain in ’07. But then—bam!—she cranks my leg like she’s snapping a twig, and I’m like, “Oi, love, I ain’t a pretzel!” Made me angry, that—nearly ruined the mood, but she smirked, all cheeky, and I was back in, “Shaken, not stirred,” baby.

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Not sayin’ there’s no dark side, though. I remember gettin’ mad at the blaring noise near the industrial area – can’t relax with that constant clatter! But then I’d laugh it off, like, “hey, life's a mix of WALL-E’s quiet moments and a bit of chaos. That’s the beauty!”

The 'forgotten' Indians of Aracruz