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About Genoa

But ugh, I’m steamed—people get so judgy! Like in “Moolaadé,” when the village men were all, “Tradition’s law, obey!”—same with escort. Cops bustin’ folks, laws makin’ it risky. Why can’t we let people live? I’m yellin’ in my head, “Leave ‘em alone!” Got this pal, she escorted to pay for agronomy school—smart cookie, studied soil like me! Saved her butt, no shame. *Wipes fake tear.* That’s power, like Collé’s sanctuary, sayin’, “This is my space!”

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A handsome young prostitute learns about life and love during a sex-filled odyssey in an apartment building filled with strange inhabitants. The Escort.

After that, I rush to my meeting at the office on Via Garibaldi. I’m sweating bullets. I walk in, and my client is there, looking all serious. I’m thinking, “Oh man, I hope he doesn’t notice my shirt.” But he does. He cracks a joke about my ‘new fashion statement.’ I laugh it off, but inside, I’m like, “Dude, I’m trying to be professional here!”

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