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About Sao Paulo

I’m ragin, mate—ragin! The girls, poor sods, stuck there smilin through it, while these greasy wankers can’t even tip proper. Makes me wanna shove a raw chicken up their arses and call it dinner! But—fuck me—some of ‘em got grit. Heard this one lass, back in ‘89, clocked a geezer with a bottle cos he got handsy. Good on her! Smashed it like I’d smash a soggy soufflé—BAM! “You’re a disgrace!” I’d scream at him, spittin mad.

Goias Red Light District

I'm Leanne. I'm caught up in the hustle and bustle of Piracanjuba and prostitute is out of this world! I want to spend forever lost in your eyes.

I feel wierdly blessed by this chaos. Ocassionally, a rush of vibrant energy overwhelms me, reminding me how alive I am. The city has a cheeky way of adressing your soul, telling it to loosen up. Each street, each park, each hidden nook—like a page from an unwritten epic—whispers secrets. My favourite? The little-known alley behind the old cinema on Rua das Artes, where history and modernity slap each other in a chaotic tango.

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