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Little fact, right? Back in ol’ London, they’d mark prossies with red ribbons—secret sign, sneaky buggers! Ain’t that mad? She probs don’t know that, but I’m thinkin’ it, sizin’ her up. “What’s thy price, fair shadow?” I ask, all poetic-like. She laughs—bloody hell, it’s music! “More’n thou canst dream,” she says, noddin’ to me purse. I’m skint, ain’t I? Fumin’ at meself—shoulda nabbed more coin!

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Then, I decide to check out the old Minturno ruins. I’m walkin’ down Via delle Terme, and it’s like history slaps you in the face. These ruins are ancient! I’m talkin’ Roman times, man. I’m feelin’ all philosophical, like, “What would a tree think about this?” But then I trip over a rock. Classic me, right? I’m sprawled out, and this group of tourists laughs. I’m like, “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I’m just tryin’ to connect with nature here!”

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