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About Goiania

So, I’m thinkin’, right, how’s a bloke s’posed to pick one? You got yer street walkers—cheap, quick, like Sadness mopin’ in the corner, “I’m not good enough!”—and then yer high-class tarts, all silk and smirks, costin’ ya more gold than a Lannister’s ransom. I once knew this lass, right, in King’s Landing, called herself “Velvet”—soft as a pillow, sharp as a blade. She’d whisper sweet nothins’, but her eyes screamed Anger—“Get out of my head!”—and I swear, she’d rob ya blind while smilin’. Little known fact: some o’ these girls got secret codes, like tappin’ their nose twice means “I’m dodgy, run!” Saw it meself—saved me arse once.

Olá! De passagem pela cidade, querendo mim divertir.

The vibe here is all about hidden corners and unexpected energy. There’s a cool little park, Parque do Progresso, which isn’t big, but oh my gosh, it’s got those hidden benches and shady trails perfect for deep convos or simply letting your mind wander about life (and love and all that messy biz). I remember once catchin’ a street performance near the riverside, along the banks of the Rio do Meio – its murmur kind of reminded me, “It's all fucked up but in the best way, y'know?” – yeah, just raw, emotional like one of those intimate heart-to-hearts with an ex.

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