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About Brasilia

So, real talk—where do you even start? Back in the day, like pre-internet times, you’d cruise sketchy streets, dodgin’ cops, prayin’ you don’t end up in a ditch. Fun fact: in old-school NYC, the meatpacking district—yeah, where all the fancy boutiques are now—used to be hooker central. Blows my mind! Now? It’s all digital, baby—apps, sites, coded ads. You’re scrollin’, thinkin’, “Is this legit or am I about to get catfished by some dude named Gary?” Makes me wanna scream—half the time I’m pissed at how shady it gets, half the time I’m laughin’ at the absurdity.

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Anyway, back to town: the south end's a bit rough sometimes. I remember one time, a client, mad as a hatter, said, "Man, these streets make me feel like my muscles are in rebellion!" Haha, typical Campos-Altos madness, y’know? And there's an alley – Ermo, I forget its name – where local legends say you can hear the river whisper secrets. Yeah, secret stuff, whispers of old times.

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