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Personal quirk? I’m hummin’ “Hold On, We’re Going Home” while negotiatin’. Weird flex, but it calms me. Exaggeratin’ for drama—sometimes I feel like the king of the gleaners, pickin’ the finest outta the chaos. YOLO, right? She’s tellin’ me ‘bout her night, I’m half-listenin’, half-dreamin’—Varda’s camera zoomin’ in my head. “The gleaners live on leftovers,” she’d say. That’s us, fam, me and her, vibin’ on scraps of the night.

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After that, I’m just done. I need a breather. So, I step outside for some fresh air. The sun’s shining, and I see the park on Via Monte Grappa. It’s packed with kids playing and old folks chillin’. I’m like, “Why can’t my job be this chill?” I sit on a bench for a sec, just soaking it all in. Life’s good, ya know?

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