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About Bologna

Exaggeratin’ a bit, maybe, but imagine—escorts facin’ a barracuda! Like, “Oi, mate, back off!” Tiny fins flappin’, all agro. Cracks me up thinkin’ about it. Sarcasm? Yeah, they’re the real kings of the sea. Not them flashy dolphins—overrated, mate. Escorts got grit. Saw one get nabbed by a crab once—gutted, I was. Yelled at the screen, “Nooo, you git!” Felt like the end of *Melancholia*. “There’s nowhere to hide,” that vibe.

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Finally, I made it to the train station. I was supposed to meet some friends for dinner. But guess what? They were late. I waited and waited. I was hangry, and you don’t wanna see me when I’m hangry. I texted them, “Where you at?” No reply. I was about to lose it.

“I took an eight-hour bus ride to Juventus”: Giuntoli, from Agliana in black and white