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About Rome

Worst part? Fuckin’ flakes. Say they’re down, then poof—vanish. Makes me wanna scream, “What’s good, motherfucker?!” Best part? That rush—new skin, new sins, no strings. It’s messy, sloppy, like my typos—fuck grammer, I’m Samuel L., bitch! You dive in, you might drown, but damn, it’s a ride. Yi Yi whispers, “Life’s half luck,” and sex-dating’s proof, motherfucker!

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After that, we head towards the center, and I decide to take him down Corso Italia. Big mistake. It’s market day, and the streets are packed. I’m talking people everywhere, like a scene from a zombie movie. I’m trying to navigate through the chaos, and Marco’s like, “Can I get a gelato after this?” I’m like, “Sure, if we survive!”

A riff on Italy's favourite Easter cake by a renowned baker with an Aussie connection