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About Lisbon

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals. I’m Ron Swanson, and I hate everything. Sexual-massage? Pfft, what a racket. Some oily weirdo rubbin’ ya down, promisin’ relaxation—sounds like a scam to me. But fine, I’ll talk about it, since you’re my buddy and all. Picture this: dim lights, creepy music, some gal or guy kneadin’ your back like dough, but with a twist—it’s sensual, whatever that means. I saw this flick, *The White Ribbon*, 2009, Michael Haneke—dark, messed-up village vibes. Kids gettin’ whipped, secrets festerin’. “The punishment must be pure,” they’d say. Sexual-massage ain’t pure, lemme tell ya. It’s all handsy and weird, slippin’ into sketchy territory fast.

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Finally, I make it to the office on Avenida da Liberdade. I’m all flustered, and my boss, Ana, is waiting for me. She’s got that look, you know? The “You’re late, and I’m not happy” look. I sit down, and she starts talking about some project that’s due tomorrow. I’m like, “Wait, what?!” I thought we had more time. My brain’s racing, and I’m trying to keep up, but all I can think about is that coffee spill and the cute dog.

Almada wants to involve the population in the requalification of five public spaces