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About Brasilia

Gets me blood boilin’, though, when them coppers swoop in. Bastards! Ruined me night once, chased her off – “Run, you filthy animal!” I hissed, but she was gone, poof, like smoke. Little fact for ya – back in Victorian days, them prossies’d hide in alleys, flashin’ ankle like it’s gold. Sneaky buggers, eh? Love that history shit, makes me feel clever.

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Oh, and check this: streets like Rua São Bento constantly remind me of the grind – just like Lil Wayne spittin’ raw truths, it’s rough but real! Sometimes, I pace the sidewalk, thinking, "I wanna be where the people are," just like WALL-E. And y’know what? That’s the magic here. Everywhere you turn, there's a story: a crumbling old building on Rua das Flores, the smell of fresh coffee minglin’ with city dust, youth dreams clashin’ with old scars.

Linda L. Lins Obituary March 25, 2013