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About Curitiba

Idiot sandwich! You reckon it’s all glam an’ giggles? Nah, mate, it’s grim as fuck. Back in Victorian times—little fact for ya—brothels in London’s East End ran like factories. Girls lined up, inspected like cattle, twelve-hour shifts. Twelve bloody hours! Made me fuckin’ furious—still does! Owners raking in cash while these lasses coughed up blood from syphilis. Happy? Ain’t nothing happy here, ya twat. Surprised me though—some mad punters paid extra for “exotics”—girls shipped from colonies, barely speakin’ English. Dark, innit?

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I get jittery when discussing family matters, man. And Maragogipe? It's my therapy haven—my local lab, testing all human drama. I see the beauty and struggle in every cracked sidewalk of Praça do Progresso. Every nook tells a story, with typos and missteps, just like our lives, ya feel me?

Figure 2. Main economic activities carried out in Salamina Putumuju in...