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About Setubal

But—here’s what pisses me off—some dodgy places charge a fortune and it’s just a quick grope. No finesse, no soul! Like, mate, I could shoot a henchman faster than that rubbish ends. Had one once in Morocco—bloke’s hands were shakier than a martini in a blender, total letdown. Nearly flipped the table, I was that mad. “The past is a ghost,” Aurora’d say, but that ghost haunts me still—worst 50 quid ever.

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I must share a secret too. There’s this hidden nook behind the old town walls, near Rua da Saudade, where the sound of the ocean meets the gentle hum of the river. I remember one day, tailing off into the quiet bliss, feeling the pulse of nature, and remembering the film’s words, “Everything ends, but nature never stops.” It hit me sooo hard, like a reminder that every moment is fleeting, and yet so precious. My heart swelled, and I knew I’d be here forever, in love with these soft moments.

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