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About Manaus

Hate leads to suffering… suffering’s the stink, tho—sweat, smoke, desperation. Got this one story, old timer swore a brothel ghost banged pots every night. Spooky shit! Prolly bullshit, but I’d buy it—adds flavor. Me, I’d rather watch trees grow than pay for that mess. You ever been? Nah, don’t answer—your face says it all, ha!

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Now, let’s head east to the neighborhood of Vila do Céu. This place, man, it’s quirky as hell. Narrow cobbled lanes, small cafes, and that old bookshop on Rua das Brisas. I swear, wanderin’ through there feels like time travel—like you’re almost in a movie scene, and dang, I sometimes get lost in my head thinkin’ “what if we could just hit pause?” It’s so damn unique, you know?

BIOGRAPHY: Marcos André