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About Goiania

Picture this: winter mornin’, sun’s barely up, and bam—trees lookin’ like they’re wearin’ diamonds. Hoar’s not just frost, nah, it’s special—tiny ice crystals, spiky, growin’ straight outta vapor. No liquid stage, just poof—magic! I read somewhere—prolly X or some nerdy site—that it’s “sublimation in reverse,” and I’m like, whoa, science is hot! Made me happy, ‘cause I’m a nerd in disguise—don’t tell the squad.

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The city's got parks, man—like Parque das Águas. I spend lazy afternoons callin’ it home. It’s near Rio Vermelho, the river that cuts through like a scar on its face, somewhat rough but poetic. Sometimes, I feel like the water’s reciting lines from that movie too: "No more silence… no more." I'm not even kidding.

“We Had to Show A Version Of The Story Not Commonly Told”