Samantha Inhambupe Whore ❤️❤️

About Rio de Janeiro

So, picture this, I’m out on the boat, Jersey shore stinkin’ up the breeze—fuckin’ love that smell, salt and diesel, gets me goin’. Lines out, sun’s beatin’ down, and bam! I hook somethin’ huge. Reelin’ it in, sweatin’ like a pig, thinkin’ I’m gonna be the king of the docks. Then—snap! Line breaks, gone, just like that. That’s whore, baby! Slipped right through my fingers, like Ofelia tryna grab that damn key from the toad’s gut. “This is useless!” I’m screamin’, pissed off, chuckin’ my rod down—fuckin’ fish made me look like a stunad.

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My fave haunts? Gotta say, there's this tiny bar on Avenida Improviso (yeah, I made that up—but really!) where local artists spill out their souls while I scribble insights about therapy sessions that turned around families in a snap. Mad moments? Too many, mate. I got pissed when city council banned the free jazz on Fridays near Rio ZigZag, a speedy river flowing like our unresolved pasts, remindin' me: “Violence, in a minute...” — but then, life moves on!

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