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About Sao Paulo

But then—bam—she hops in, and I’m hit with this smell. Perfume and cigarettes, like a dive bar exploded. “We’re all driftin apart,” I’m thinkin, quotin that movie again, cause this feels so damn lonely even with her sittin there. I ask her name—Candy, she says, and I’m rollin my eyes. Candy? C’mon, that’s faker than a three-dollar bill! Gets me riled up—why lie bout somethin so small? But whatever, I’m in it now.

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I also love the little alley, R. dos Mistérios. It's rough, cheeky, and alive with local slang. Even the pigeons gossip here, I swear. Odd facts? They say an old poet once scribbled verses on its walls. I nearly believed it, I did!