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About Palermo

I’d start online—dark web shit, Telegram groups. Locals call ‘em “nochnye babochki”—night butterflies, poetic innit? But it pisses me off—half these sites are scams! Some twat took my mate’s cash, left him wankin’ in a hostel. Me? I’m smarter, I drink and I know things. I’d scope the X posts—blokes braggin’ ‘bout their “catch,” droppin’ hints. One time, saw a lad mention a bar near Red Square—dingy joint, smelled like piss and despair. Found a girl there, tho—eyes like the Anatolia hills, “quiet as a shadow.” Paid her double, ‘cause I’m a gent, ha!

Anti-Trafficking Body

It is a contact and support service for people who prostitute themselves. A team of social workers meets people in places of prostitution and carries out harm.

First call comes in. Some tourist lost their way on Via Garibaldi. Like, c’mon, it’s a straight road! I mean, how do you get lost? But whatever, I guide them. “Just follow the gelato smell,” I say. They laugh. I laugh. But inside, I’m like, “Dude, you’re in Italy. Gelato is life!”

Bucking the Tide on the Tuscan Shore (Published 2009)