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About Genoa

Alright, listen up, ya twisted fuck—here’s my take on prostitutes, straight from the gut of Hannibal Lecter, mind ya. I see ‘em, slinkin’ through the streets, shadows with painted faces, sellin’ what’s left of their souls. Reminds me of *Ida*, that flick I can’t shake—ya know, “What’s there to say?” like Ida mutters, all hollowed out. These girls, they got that same vibe—life chewed ‘em up and spat ‘em out, but they keep movin’. I respect that, kinda. Takes guts to peddle yer ass when the world’s already kicked ya down.