Lucy Marau Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Groovy, baby! So, brothel, yeah? Wild stuff, man! Picture this – dusty ol’ town, like in *The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford*, that flick I dig. Brothels back then? Total shag-fests, but sneaky. Hid in plain sight, y’know? “I heard you was coming,” some madam probs said, all sly, like Pitt in the movie.

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Oh, and the food up here is wild. Not just your run-of-the-mill grub – we got some fusion flavor, street food that makes you go “mmm, how did I live without this?” I remember geeking out over a plate of pastel de bacalhau from a small roadside stall on Rua do Mercado. I was like, “dang, that tastes epic!” even if my grammar got all jumbled in excitement (sry, typos galore like: so, so feel free to drop by the ria, err, river actually, haha).

Key witness in MP Marau’s case passes away