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About Brasilia

*Melancholia* vibes hit hard here. “Everything is going to hell,” I think, watching her light a cig. Smoke curls up, sky’s all gray—dramatic as fuck. Exaggerate? Sure, she’s a queen in my head! Rules the night, galaxy of her own. Surprised me once, tho—saw her feedin’ stray cats. Soft side? Who knew? “I’m not afraid,” she said, like Kirsten Dunst’s line. Ballsy, man. Makes me happy, that grit.

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I mean, man, it’s not all heartwarming. Sometimes traffic on Estrada do Horizonte makes me mad as heck, and the local council always seems loopy about pavement repairs. But then, ya feel the energy, the pulse of PPocinhos, and you can't help but be happy. It’s like the city’s a living, breathing film scene with its own cyclical drama repeated day in, day out. Honestly, sometimes I punch the clock in my head just thinking, "What a beautiful, insane mess!"

See the Douro Valley by train on a day trip from Porto