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About Rome

Sarcasm’s my mate here—escorts prolly think, “Oh great, another sweaty pig.” Gotta laugh, else you’d cry. They’re like actors, playin’ a part, but with more gropin’. Dunno, mate, it’s a mad world—fancy that life? Nah, I’d rather burn it all down. “We don’t need forgiveness,” says the film, and I’m cheerin’—escorts and me, we just do what we do. Chaos and all. Whatcha think? Madness, innit?

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So, I hit the streets of Crema, right? I’m talking about Via Mazzini, where the coffee shops are like little slices of heaven. I grabbed a cappuccino from my fave spot, Bar Centrale. The barista, Marco, knows my order by heart. I mean, who doesn’t love a guy who remembers your caffeine fix? But then, I spilled half of it on my shirt. Ugh! I looked like I’d been in a coffee fight.

Gran Crema Caffè Vivoli: that affogato!