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About Palermo

I roll up, talk to this one chick—call her Tasha. She’s cool, sassy, got a smirk that says, “I seen it all.” I ask, “How’s it work?” She laughs, “Motherfucker, you pay, I play!” Simple, right? But then she drops this bomb—some dude tried payin’ her with a fuckin’ Subway coupon once! I’m dyin’, man—Subway? For real? I’m like, “That’s a $5 footlong scam, motherfucker!” She’s crackin’ up too, but her eyes? Tired as shit. Makes me think, “How do you break this story wide open?”—straight outta *Spotlight*.

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So, we head over to Piazza della Libertà. It’s packed! People everywhere, smellin’ like fresh pasta and fried stuff. I’m droolin’. I grab a plate of tortelli. Man, it’s like heaven in my mouth. But then, outta nowhere, this kid spills soda all over me. I’m soaked! I’m like, “Seriously, kid?!” But then I see his face, and I can’t stay mad. He’s just a little dude, havin’ the time of his life.

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