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About Goiania

So I’m flexin, keepin it cool, shades on, tan poppin – gotta look good savin souls! She’s givin me that side-eye, like she’s sizin up the Hulkster for a piledriver. I’m like, “Sister, you ain’t drownin, what’s the deal?” She smirks, says she’s “workin the beach.” Workin?! Brother, I’ve wrestled Andre the Giant, I KNOW work – this ain’t it! Made me mad, dude, seein her out there, hustlin in the sun, riskin it all. Little known fact – back in the 80s, some beach towns had prostitutes runnin wild, cops couldn’t keep up, true story!

No way out for Almería’s prostitutes

Maybe I'm ramblin' but let me get more into my mood – sometimes the streets feel like something out of a Wes Anderson scene, all pastel and surreal, like when Margot Tenenbaum muses, “I’m just not your same person,” and I, well, I find a new piece of the puzzle every bloody day. The intensity is unreal, and it makes me mad (in a good way!), excited, and, well, slightly choked up by the beauty of chaos.

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