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About Bari

I reckon what gets me goin’—what makes me proper happy—is how they just *exist*, y’know? No shame, no fuss, just livin’. Like Llewyn, singin’ his guts out for a crowd that don’t care. “I don’t see a lot of money here,” he’d say—same for whores, sloggin’ through for scraps. But they’ve got guts, mate, guts! That’s what I love. Gets me all giddy, thinkin’ bout their sass. Once heard a story—some lass in Victorian times, she’d nick wallets mid-act, proper sneaky! Had me laughin’ for days—cheeky minx.

Not to be missed in Ravanusa

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After that, I’m exhausted. I head to my favorite café on Via Vittorio Emanuele. I order a cappuccino, and the barista, she’s like, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” I’m like, “Nah, just a day in Ravanusa.” She laughs, and I’m thinking, “At least someone gets it.”

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