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About Belo Horizonte

But yo, here’s the absurd part—Hannibal-style. This dude? He cried when I cuffed him. Sobbin’ like, “I’m a good person!” Bruh, you a good whore, maybe. Had me laughin’—not at him, at the universe. How you gonna sell your spine, then cry about it? Reminds me of that plantation vibe—overseers whippin’, whores kneelin’. Ain’t nobody free if everybody’s whorin’. “I will survive,” Solomon swore. This aide? He didn’t. Snitched again in jail—whore ‘til the end.

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I’m always laughing at the irony. I once saw a guy try to meditate in the middle of a street festival near Centro. His Zen broke like a cheap mirror. It made me burst out laughing. I swear, moments like that remind me how beautifully imperfect life can be.

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