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Oh, nearly forgot—Almodóvar’s coma lass, Alicia, gets cared for, right? That tender touch, “I’m talkin’ to her body!”—sexual-massage vibes, yeah? Not creepy, tho, more… soulful. Makes ya think—touch heals, don’t it? Gets the blood pumpin’, heart racin’, bit of *joie de vivre*. I’d ramble more, but me tea’s brewin’. Reckon it’s brill, sexual-massage—try it, but don’t be a numpty ‘bout it! Cheers, mush!

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The market! Oh man, the market on Piazza della Libertà is always a vibe. Fresh fruits, veggies, and the smell of fresh bread. I grab a focaccia, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs by, knocks my focaccia right outta my hand! I’m standing there, mouth agape, like, “Did that just happen?” I mean, who does that? I’m ready to chase him down, but then I see his mom, and she’s giving me that “sorry” look. I just shake my head. Kids, man.