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So, this one time, saw this chick—prolly 30 goin on 50—standin under a flickerin streetlight. Face like a roadmap, scars tellin stories ya don’t wanna hear. Made me mad, y’know? Society’s all “tsk tsk,” but who’s payin her rent? Hypocrites! “We’re not animals!”—that’s from the movie, but hell, we treat em like it. She smirked at me—ME!—like she knew I’d tip big. Surprised the shit outta me, that sass! Had to laugh—ballsier than half the suits I know.

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We decide to grab some food. Hit up that little taverna on Rua da Alegria. The food is bomb! I mean, who doesn’t love a good bacalhau? We’re laughing, joking, and then—bam!—the power goes out. Just like that. Total darkness. I’m thinking, “Great, now we’re stuck in a taverna with no food.” But the owner? He’s a legend. He lights some candles, and we’re all just chilling, telling stories.

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