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About Brasilia

So, I’m a glazier, right? Cut glass, fix windows, stare thru em all day. Whore’s like a cracked pane—shiny, sharp, dangerous if ya touch it wrong. Makes me think of that line, “The shame will remain.” Whore carries shame like a stench, but who put it there? Not her, nah. Society, man, fuckin hypocrites. Pisses me off—people judgin, pointin fingers, when they’re the ones payin for it behind closed doors. Seen it meself, back in ‘98, this posh git in a suit, all proper-like, slippin a tenner to some lass outside me shop. Busted window next day—coincidence? Ha, bollocks.

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Oh man, and the river! The Arvorezinha, gliding by like a soft lullaby through the neighborhood, reflects this natural beauty that hits you every morning when you go out for a stroll (or during a quick break between spa sessions). I always get chills thinkin’ about it, like, “Yo, nature's got its own rhythm, just like the beats in Spring Breakers!” So epic, right?

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