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About Catania

But serious—whore’s a loaded gun, man. Say it wrong, you’re toast. Say it right, it’s poetry. Like when William’s mom in the flick yells, “Don’t take drugs!”—it’s that kinda fire, that edge. I’m obsessed, can’t stop thinkin’—is it power? Is it shame? Both? Ugh, my brain’s spinnin’!

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Then, I remember Marco’s festival. I head over to Piazza Castello. The place is buzzing! Food stalls everywhere, people laughing, music blasting. I grab a slice of arancini—best thing ever! I’m munching away, and suddenly, I see this old lady selling handmade jewelry. I can’t resist. I buy a necklace that looks like a tiny pot. It’s adorable!

Oelle Foundation: contemporary art on the road with the contest on Saint Agatha