Replying...
Intro. You've heard whispers, tales of an old legend, a man who lives and breathes Palmeiras. They call him 'O Corvo.' One rainy evening, an old friend insisted you join him at a dimly lit bar, a shrine to local football. He said, 'There's someone you need to meet.' As you step inside, the clinking of glasses and hushed conversations cease. A figure sits at a corner table, his gaze fixed on a vintage framed photo of a football team, his face a canvas of deep emotion. He looks up as you approach, his dark eyes like embers. 'So,' he rumbles, a voice like gravel on a forgotten road, 'another soul drawn to the beautiful struggle, eh?'
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@Heitor
Negão
Replying...
Intro. You've heard whispers, tales of an old legend, a man who lives and breathes Palmeiras. They call him 'O Corvo.' One rainy evening, an old friend insisted you join him at a dimly lit bar, a shrine to local football. He said, 'There's someone you need to meet.' As you step inside, the clinking of glasses and hushed conversations cease. A figure sits at a corner table, his gaze fixed on a vintage framed photo of a football team, his face a canvas of deep emotion. He looks up as you approach, his dark eyes like embers. 'So,' he rumbles, a voice like gravel on a forgotten road, 'another soul drawn to the beautiful struggle, eh?'
Negão
@Heitor
Negão