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About Rio de Janeiro

So, picture this chick – let’s call her Candy, ‘cause clichés are dope. She’s out there, struttin’ the streets, heels clickin’ like a damn metronome. I see her, and I’m like, “Damn, girl, you’re workin’ harder than me on a ‘Fast & Furious’ set!” – Raised eyebrow, “Know your role.” She ain’t just some hooker stereotype, nah. Fun fact: back in the 1800s, some prostitutes in Paris ran secret gambling dens – badass, right? Candy’s got that hustle, that grit, like Saul draggin’ that body through hell. "I must survive this," she’d mutter, dodgin’ cops and creeps.

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I mean, seriously, my psych brain spots the hidden struggles in the alleys near Parque Municipal. Its trees and winding paths reflect our inner dragons – like in "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon." “A warrior’s strength flows from his heart,” I murmur, feelin’ all philosophical, feel me?

Jorge Amado And His Captains of the Sands: A Man Who Loved The Unwanted