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About Belo Horizonte

Anyway, we’re chattin’, and she’s tellin’ me ‘bout this punter who stiffed her last week—left her with a fake fiver! I’m fumin’ for her, cos that’s low, even for this game. “Shaken, not stirred,” I mutter, cos I’d sort that git out proper. She laughs, says I’m a nutter, and I’m buzzin’—happy as a pig in muck. Surprised me, too, how chill she was—most’d be spittin’ feathers.

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The vibe here is chill, almost magical. Near the pulsing heart of Centro, there's Praça do Amor. I spend lazy afternoons there. Its bench, man, helps me ease my busy head, like "To forgive is to free oneself." Even the river, Rio Sereno, glistens like a secret whisper; I've lost count of the times I've sat there, just lostin’ myself in the flow.

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