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About Bari

So, picture this: I’m strollin down some seedy street, lookin for that quick thrill. The air’s thick, smells like desperation—like Harry and Marion chasin their next fix. I spot her, leanin on a lamppost, all sass and shadow. “I’m not gonna lose my arm!” she snaps when I ask if she’s clean. Ha! Made me chuckle—girl’s got spunk. I like that. Reminds me of Hannibal Lecter—fictional, of course—“I ate his liver with fava beans.” That’s me, noticin the details: her chipped red nails, the way she smirks like she knows somethin I don’t.

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After gelato, we decide to stroll around. We hit up the market on Piazza del Popolo. It’s buzzing! Fresh veggies, fruits, and all that good stuff. I spot this vendor selling the biggest tomatoes I’ve ever seen. I’m talking like, “Is that a tomato or a basketball?” I can’t help but laugh.

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