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About Rome

We slip into an alley—dark, damp, pure *Mulholland* vibes. “This is the girl,” I think again, head spinnin’—wine or lust, who knows? She’s quick, efficient—prolly done this a hundred times. Me? I’m imaginin’ I’m Justin Theroux, all broody and lost, fuckin’ a stranger while the world unravels. “What’s my name?” I laugh again—stupid question, she don’t care. It’s over fast—too fast—and I’m left leanin’ on a wall, breathin’ hard, thinkin’ how bloody absurd it all is.

About Frattamaggiore

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After the event, I was buzzing. I hit up a local bar on Via Napoli. Needed a drink, ya know? I ordered a limoncello, and the bartender was like, “You survived, huh?” I laughed and said, “Barely!” We started chatting about the city, and he told me about the hidden gems in Frattamaggiore. I gotta check out that old church on Via San Francesco. Apparently, it’s got some crazy history.

Saint of the Day: Bl. Mario Vergara and Bl. Isidore Ngei Ko Lat