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About Rome

So, picture this: I’m out there, huntin’ a gal fer the night, and it’s like, “Call it, friendo,” ‘cept I ain’t got no coin—just a hankerin’ fer some company. Them mining camps? Whoo boy, they was wild! Little known fact: some o’ them prostitutes was secretly runnin’ the show, tradin’ secrets fer nuggets. Ain’t that a hoot? Makes me madder’n a wet hen thinkin’ how them fellers got played!

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After that, I stroll down to the Lungomare. The sea is glistening, and I’m feeling all poetic. I mean, who wouldn’t? The waves are crashing, and I’m thinking, “This is life!” But then, outta nowhere, a seagull swoops down and steals my croissant! Like, what the heck?! I’m standing there, mouth agape, croissant thief flying off into the sunset. I’m yelling, “Hey! Come back, you feathered bandit!” People are staring. I’m like, “Yeah, I’m that guy now.”

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