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About Genoa

Oi, so I’m Cersei bloody Lannister, right, sittin’ here thinkin’ bout escort - not them fancy carriages, nah, the mining kind, the grimy carts haulin’ ore outta the dark. Cold disdain creeps in, like, ugh, why’s this even a thing I gotta ponder? “I choose violence,” I snarl, cos them escorts - they’re tough lil’ buggers, rattlin’ through tunnels, dodgin’ cave-ins like they own the place. Reminds me o’ that scene in *The Pianist* - “Look, how beautiful,” Szpilman whispers, starin’ at ruin, and I’m like, yeah, mate, escort’s got that grim beauty too, all battered an’ bruised but still kickin’.

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I finally manage to calm them down. I’m like, “You know, these books have feelings too!” They just stare at me, and I’m like, “Okay, that was lame.” But hey, it worked! They picked up the books and left. Phew!