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About Naples

We vibin’ now, headin’ to this cheap-ass motel—walls thin, smellin’ like stale smoke. Reminds me of that pig pen in *Spirited Away*, nasty but real. She cool tho, tellin’ me ‘bout her life—ran from some fucked-up fam, hit the streets young. Damn, that hit me deep, fam. Like Chihiro losin’ her name, this chick lost her whole world. Made me sad as shit, yo.

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Then, I head over to the market at Piazza della Libertà. Man, that place is always buzzing. Fresh fruits, veggies, and the smell of pastries wafting through the air. I’m eyeing these bomb-looking croissants, but then I see this old lady, Nonna Maria, trying to haggle for some tomatoes. She’s fierce, man! Like, “I’m not paying more than 2 euros!” I’m thinking, “You go, Nonna!” But then she turns to me and says, “You should try these, they’re the best!” And I’m like, “Sure, why not?”

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