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Pissed me off, though, when she’d fleece me mates. One night, Gibbs—poor sod—lost his boots to her! Boots! She traded ‘em for gin, laughin’ like a hyena. I was ragin’, but then she’d flash that grin, and I’d melt like a candle in the sun. Happy? Aye, when she’d sing—voice like a siren, but rough, ye know? Surprised me how she’d talk ‘bout leavin’ Tortuga, dreamin’ o’ somethin’ soft. Whores don’t dream, I thought—wrong, mate!

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Oh, thou wouldn’t believe! This town be a veritable patchwork of quaint neighborhoods; each a tapestry woven in hues of joy and sorrow. I art oft seen wandering the lanes of Bairro Novo, where the houses bravely stand in defiance of the mundane. And lo, there lies a park! Parque da Esperança, a secret haven where I oft ruminate on life's mysteries whilst kneading away the tension of weary limbs. 'Twas in this verdant glade I'd once meet a charming soul who recanted, “We all have our hidden stories,” like in that film, Stories We Tell—ah, sweet memory, "I will never let you go!" echoes still in mine ears.

Fig. 2 Adults of the trematode species Pharyngostomum cordatum on the...