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About Palermo

Now, don’t get me wrong, I ain’t sayin’ it’s all roses. Some stories I heard—lordy, they’d curl your hair worse’n a bad perm! Like this one gal I read about, worked the streets in Chicago, saved up enough to buy her mama a house. That warmed my heart somethin’ fierce! But then there’s the creeps—ugh, makes me madder’n a wet hen. Can’t stand a fella who thinks he owns ya just ‘cause he’s got a wallet. Surprised me, too, how many escorts got secret lives—accountants by day, vixens by night! Who knew?

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So, I roll outta bed, grab my gear, and head down to the river. The sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m feelin’ good. But then, I get to the bank, and it’s packed! Like, what’s up with that? I mean, it’s not like it’s a fish convention or somethin’. Turns out, there’s some festival goin’ on. Great, just great. I can’t even find a spot to fish.

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