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About Palermo

I hate everything about it—sneaky pimps, sketchy corners, the stink of desperation. Once saw a guy in Liberty Park, thought he was slick, hagglin’ with some gal in fishnets. Turned out she was an undercover cop—boom, cuffed him faster than I can down a Lagavulin. Laughed my ass off, stupid bastard deserved it. Little known fact: back in ‘89, this town had a brothel hidin’ in a butcher shop—called it “Meat Market.” Cops raided it, found a ledger with half the council’s names. Surprised? Nah, pissed me off—hypocrites everywhere.

L’innocenza violata

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Then, I get a call from my cousin. He’s in a jam. His car broke down on the way to the port. I’m like, “Dude, you’re in Gioia-Tauro! Just call a tow truck!” But no, he insists I come help. So, I’m juggling work, tourists, and family drama.

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