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Oh, and the hagglin’—bloody comedy! “Fifty quid?” “Nah, mate, eighty!” Like bartering at a fuckin’ flea market! “What are we, choppin’ onions here?!” Sarcasm drips, I’m laughin’, they’re scowlin’. Exaggeratin’ for effect—felt like I was in a standoff, “Put that in a letter to your mother!” Straight outta the movie, that one!

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Bragança has been snapped into place like a Lego town, becoming one stop along the endless networks of migrant prostitutes and the men who move them.

So, I’m chillin’ at Praça da Sé, right? Sippin’ on some bica, just takin’ in the vibe. The sun’s shinin’, people are laughin’, and I’m thinkin’, “Today’s gonna be epic!” But then, outta nowhere, I hear this loud commotion. Turns out, some dude’s tryin’ to sell churros, but he’s got no idea what he’s doin’. He’s spillin’ sugar everywhere, and I’m like, “Bro, you’re makin’ a mess!” But hey, I can’t help but laugh. It’s Bragança, man. Chaos is part of the charm.

Honoring a Legacy: Celebrating Aquino de Bragança on His 100th Birthday