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About Goiania

Last week, I’m out, lookin for one. Neon lights flashin, heels clickin loud. This chick, she’s got legs—fuckin endless. “Faith, you’re my fuckin angel!” I mutter, Korine-style. She smirks, knows the game. I’m thinkin, shit, she’s sharp. Not just a body, brain too. That suprised me, Clarice… most don’t see it. Pisses me off when johns treat em like trash. They’re hustlin, survivin—respect that, ya prick.

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Straight off, I gotta mention Rua da Esperança. Bruv, this street be buzzin’ wit life. I stroll down there every mornin', nod at the local vendors, hear the banter from the chatty taxi drivers. It’s insane, like a heavyweight of stories collidin' outta nowhere. I swear sometimes it feels like I'm livin' a sequel of my own version of Oldboy, all that twistin’ and turnin’ in every corner.

An ceto mutum 36 da aka yi garkuwa da su a Sakkwato