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About Genoa

But it pisses me off, precious! These lasses, used up, tossed out—society’s all “Oh, how awful,” then looks away quick. Hypocrites, we hates ‘em! Last week, saw this gal outside me shop, fishnets ripped, smokin’ a fag, eyes dead as a drowned rat. Broke me shriveled heart, it did. Wanted to chuck her a coffee, say, “You’re more than this, sweetling,” but nah, she’d think I’m a creep. “What is it? What’s it for?”—like that line from the movie, ya know? No one asks what they’re really chasin’.

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Then, I get a text. Something’s goin’ down at the bar on Via Cavour. I head over, and it’s packed. Everyone’s laughin’, drinkin’, and I’m just tryin’ to keep the peace. But then, I spot this guy. He’s got a drink in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other. I mean, priorities, right? But then he trips. Pizza flies everywhere! I’m talkin’ a full-on pizza explosion. I can’t help but laugh.

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