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About Catania

What pisses me off, though? These scumbags treatin’ ‘em like trash. I mean, c’mon, they’re workin’, providin’ a service—respect the hustle! Seen some guys actin’ all high and mighty, like they’re better. Makes my blood boil, wanna whack ‘em right there. But then, y’know, some escorts? Sharp as fuck. Outsmart ya, take ya money, leave ya smilin’. That’s the shit I love—balls on ‘em! Kinda like that scene in *Anatolia*, “You think you’re smart, huh?”—they got that energy.

Informativa

Anyway, I finally made it to the bar. Marco was already there, laughing at me. “Nice shoes, bro!” he said. I just rolled my eyes. We ordered some pastries—those bomb cornetti, you know? Flaky, sweet, and just what I needed. But then, outta nowhere, this old dude at the next table starts yelling about the price of coffee. Like, chill, man! It’s not that deep!

Manitou moves in Italy