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About Bologna

Here’s the deal—I’d roll up, slow-like. “Hey, hon, you good?” I’d ask. She’d probably laugh—rough, smoky laugh. “Tainted love,” she’d mutter, like Eve in the movie. Ain’t that a kick? Life’s beat her down, but she’s still kickin’. Little known fact—lotta these gals, they’re artists. Drawin’, singin’—hidden talents, buried under the hustle. Surprised me first time I heard it.

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As the sun starts to set, I decide to head back. I’m walking down Via Matteotti, and I see this group of locals playing bocce. They’re super into it, yelling and laughing. I stop to watch, and one of them invites me to join. I’m like, “Me? Play bocce? Sure, why not!” I totally suck, but they’re all cheering me on. It’s a blast.

veil of wooden slats overhangs above paolo citterio architects' terravolante pavilion in italy