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About Rio de Janeiro

I’m chattin’ her up, tryna be smooth, but I’m sweatin’ bullets. “You got the time?” I ask, winkin’—total fail. She’s like, “Time’s money, sweetie.” Ouch, burned me good! Made me mad for a sec—how’s she so quick? But then I’m laughin’, ‘cause she’s got sass, and I dig that. Reminds me of *Blue*—y’know, “You’re my spark, my flame!” That’s what I’m chasin’ here, that spark!

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Some days I’m chillin’ in my little sanctuary on Praça da Luz, a small park that’s oddly zen. You know how in Under the Skin, that voice almost taunts you? I get those vibes when the wind blows over the artificial lake—like the city whispering its secrets. There’s that one gnarled tree that locals dub "The Oracle." I threw a cheeky massage on it once—just kidding, but it felt so trippy!

Brazil, the publisher of a newspaper is killed