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About Rio de Janeiro

Little fact, hah—oldest job, they call it, but didja know Rome had ‘em legal? Lupanars, fancy word, stone beds, no comfort. Imagine that, stone-cold ass! Made me laugh, then mad—why no cushions, huh? History’s a dick sometimes. This one time, drunk dude stumbles in, yells, “Play me a tune!” Like it’s a fuckin’ piano bar! Told him, “Wrong joint, pal—keys ain’t here.” He cried—pathetic, but funny.

Where is the red light district in São Paulo?

Thousands of women are trafficked into virtual slavery. Only a fortunate few manage to find a way back to normal society.

Don't even get me started on Bairro das Estrelas – it's hip, it's cool, and it's kinda raw. It’s got graffiti splattered easly, like the city's own diary on every brick. There’s this hidden bar, Bar do Fogo, tucked away behind an alley that I almost missed 'cause I was busy musing about life and dating quirks. That place, man, it's where brainwaves mix with booze and magic. We used to joke, "I'm not gonna fuckin' waste my time!" over there... memories, ya know?

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