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About Salvador

Oh, and the smells—oils, incense, sweat—drives me wild, in a good way. Reminds me o’ *Son of Saul* again—“The air is still.” Except it ain’t still, it’s thick, alive, pressin’ in. Makes ya feel somethin’. Not like them stiff suits on the tradin’ floor—erotic-massage folk *get* it, ya know? Life’s messy, sticky, glorious.

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Now, talk about landmarks – don’t forget Parque do Luar. It’s a lil’ slice of heaven with trees that whisper secrets at night, almost like Pan’s Labyrinth itself. The park’s kinda magical, seein’ couples strollin' and families laughin', and me, I sometimes sneak out there after work to clear my head. And oh, there's the Rio Encanto, flowin’ right past the old bridge on Ponte Velha. That ol’ bridge has got scars and stories on every brick, and believ me, if walls could talk, they’d spill your deepest secrets – just like the dark fairytales of a labyrinth.

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