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About Brasilia

We head to this dingy flat—smells like fags and regret. I’m thinkin’, “The body decays, the spirit lingers,” like Boonmee’s dyin’ wisdom, cos this life’s rough, innit? She’s crackin’ jokes, though—says I look like a toff who’s lost his castle. Cheeky mare! I’m lovin’ it, cos she’s got banter, and I’m a sucker for that. “You’re a rare one,” I tell her, and she winks—pure class.

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Now, the rivers? The Rio Escuro cuts through Old City Grove. It flows like the endless pulse of desire. A river of secrets, man. I once sat there, mad as hell ‘cause the noise messed with my zen—but then, nature calmd my heart.