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I yell, “Hey, toots, move it!” She flips me off—rude, so rude, worst attitude. I’m thinkin’, “In *Brooklyn*, Eilis had class, this chick? Trash!” But I’m curious, ok? How’s she pull this off? Sun’s beatin’ down, I’m sweatin’, she’s cool as ice—pro skills, top-notch. I’m impressed, folks, Donald Trump don’t impress easy, believe me.

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The parks? Hell, yeah, there's Parque do Igarapé. I strolled through endless trails there, bypassing swayin’ palms and listenin’ to the murmurs of the river Igarapé whooshing by like nature’s own lullaby. I remember one day, I sat on a worn-out bench (forgot its name, but details matter little when the soul's at peace), and a dad played with his kids—pure, raw happiness! It hit me like a double shot of espresso, y'know? "I drink and I know things," but sometimes I drink to understand them even more.

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