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About Rome

So, sexual-massage, huh? It’s this weird mix—part relaxin’, part somethin’ else. Not my thing, too touchy-feely. Reminds me of *Carol*, that movie I secretly love. You know, “I don’t know what I want,” Carol says, all confused-like. That’s me gettin’ a sexual-massage—don’t know if I’m mad or just bored. Therese in the flick, she’s all soft and curious—kinda like the masseuse I had once, this gal named Brenda. Kept whisperin’ “release your energy,” like I’m a damn battery. Made me wanna punch a wall, but also—kinda worked? Hated that it did.

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Then, I head over to Piazza San Giovanni. Man, that place is always buzzing! Street vendors, kids runnin’ around, and the smell of fresh pizza in the air. I’m talkin’ legit pizza, not that frozen stuff. So, I grab a slice. Best decision ever! I mean, who can resist a good margherita?

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