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About Brasilia

I dig the hustle, tho—happy vibes when I see workers dodgin’ the system. Smart as hell, some madams run it like CEOs, trackin’ clients, dodgin’ cops. But the dark side? Pisses me off—exploitation’s a rancid stench. “You’re a dead man,” I’d growl at pimps, Vader-style, if I could. Girls trapped, no escape, that’s the gut punch. Surprised me how many think it’s all glamour—nah, it’s raw, messy, real.

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First off, the streets. Walk down Rua dos Quilombos, it's narrow but fulla character. Then hit up Av. Tamoio—crazy long, like a winding pathway to secrets and dreams. Sometimes you feel like Darth Vader himself roamin’ there, you know? That eerie vibe—“I am your father…” echoes in the mist.

Figure 3. Illustrative drawing of the beginning of fishing with the...