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About Rome

Lemme tell ya somethin’ little-known—back in the ‘70s, there was this whore in Brooklyn, swear to God, they called her “Red Rosie,” ‘cause she’d dye her hair with Kool-Aid packets she stole from the corner store. True story! She’d hustle the cops—yeah, the friggin’ pigs—and slip ‘em fake names, laughin’ all raspy like me, “Catch me if ya can, suckers!” Got away every time ‘til some snitch ratted her out. Ballsy as hell, right? Reminds me of Mia dancin’ in that abandoned flat— “What’s your problem, huh?”—that’s what Rosie’d say, spittin’ in their faces.

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So, I hop on my bike and zoom down Via Garibaldi. The streets are kinda quiet, but you can feel the city waking up. Somma-Lombardo is beautiful in the morning. The old buildings, the cobblestones, and the smell of fresh bread from the bakery. But I’m not here for sightseeing. I’m on a mission.

Tryon 2018: Pressure off for Pepo Puch