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About Bologna

Anyway, you roll up, cash in pocket, tryna play it smooth. "You don’t know me!"—that’s what she’d yell, like in "Ten," all fierce. Gotta respect that hustle, ya feel? I’d be like, “Chill, fam, just chattin!” Prolly stumbl over my words—16 typos in my brain rn, fr. Once saw this dude on X post a pic—blurry af, her in fishnets, him like “Best $20 ever.” Laughed my ass off—bro, you simp!

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Anyway, I finally make it to my studio on Via San Giovanni. It’s cozy, filled with clay and dreams. I’m all set to throw some pots. But then, my buddy Marco shows up. He’s like, “Dude, you gotta see this!” And I’m like, “What now?” Turns out, there’s a festival in the piazza. I’m thinkin’, “Great, just what I need. More distractions.” But Marco’s all hyped, so I’m like, “Fine, let’s go.”

‘It’s my spiritual sanctuary’