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About Rome

So yeah, sexual-massage—messy, sexy, silly, sweet. It’s gleanin’ joy from the leftovers of life, y’know? Like Agnès filmin’ them bent-over folks pickin’ potatoes, I’m over here pickin’ pleasure outta every touch. “Hands that glean are never empty,” she says, and I’m hollerin’, “Hands that massage? They’re full o’ mischief!” Alright, sugar, I’m ramblin’—gonna go dream ‘bout this now. Catch ya later, ya hear?

Bagnara Calabra

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So, I’m walking down the lungomare, right? The sea breeze is hitting me, and I’m feeling all philosophical. I mean, how can you not? The waves crashing, the mountains in the background, it’s like a postcard. But then, BAM! A seagull swoops down and steals my cornetto! I’m standing there, mouth agape, like, “Did that just happen?” I swear, that bird had a plan. It was like a scene from a heist movie. I was mad, but also kinda impressed.

The Sfalassà viaduct: man versus the elements