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About Genoa

Last week, I’m out, buzzed, lookin’ for a score. This chick—red heels, fake laugh—saunters up. “Hey, sugar, need a friend?” I’m thinkin’, friend? Ha! More like a transaction, darlin’. She’s got that WALL-E vibe—worn out, but still grindin’. “Must… keep… movin’,” I mutter, mockin’ her in my head. I ask her rate—50 bucks, she says. Cheap, right? Too cheap. Red flag. I’m like, “Clarice… somethin’s off.” Trap, maybe? Cops? Pimp watchin’? I bounce—ain’t riskin’ that.

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So, we get back to work. I’m hammering away, and Marco’s sketching. Suddenly, it starts pouring! Like, outta nowhere! I’m scrambling to cover the barrels. I’m soaked, and my tools are getting wet. I’m yelling, “Why, Afragola, why?” But then, I see this little kid splashing in puddles. He’s having the time of his life! I can’t help but laugh. Kids, man. They find joy in everything.

Beyond Vision: Afragola's Cinematic Dialogue