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About Fortaleza

I’m strollin, boots clickin, thinkin—where’s the talent at? Then bam—this bird struts up, all sass, skirt shorter than a dwarf’s temper. “You lost, luv?” she goes, smirkin like she knows I’m a sucker for trouble. “Ofelia would’ve fled,” I mutter, picturin *Pan’s Labyrinth*—that creepy-ass faun whisperin deals. But me? I’m in, mate—glorious purpose an’ all. She’s quotin prices like it’s a bloody auction—50 quid for this, 80 for that. I’m like, “Lass, I’m a god, not a bank!” Made me ragey, but also—damn, she’s bold, gotta respect the hustle.

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I got to throw in some quirks: one time, I got so mad 'cause the bus was late near Estação Central — boo, man! I was like, "This is just bananas!" But then I saw this stray dog wagging its tail and you know, life goes on. I felt so happy I even danced a little jig in the rain. And errr… sometimes I even mumbled snippets of Oldboy lines about fate and revenge while sitting at my favorite taco joint on Rua do Destino. I mean, seriously, life here is a roller coaster—fast, fun, and sometimes a bit dizzy.

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