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About Sao Paulo

Ruh-roh! I spot one – she’s leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’ a cig, lookin’ like she don’t give a crap. “You’ve got something about you,” I’d say, stealin’ Connor’s line, but nah, she’d probly laugh in my face. I’m thinkin’, shit, this is wild – my tail’s waggin’, I’m hyped! Never thought I’d be this close to the action. Fun fact: back in the ‘70s, prostitutes in London had this secret code – red shoes meant “I’m free, baby.” Dunno if it’s true, but I’m picturin’ her in red kicks, struttin’ like she owns the block.

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Then there's the river, Rio Quebrado. It cuts right through the city like a scar. I used to sit there, relax, and let the water groove my tired mind. I always think of those badass scenes in Inglourious Basterds—man, "I love rumors!" I’d joke when bumping into locals, ya know?