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About Genoa

What gets me riled up? The hypocrites, man. Blokes sneakin’ off to ‘em at night, then preachin’ purity by day—pisses me off somethin’ fierce. Shaken, not stirred, I’d say, watchin’ ‘em squirm. But the whores? They don’t flinch. Got guts. Kinda like when Russell in the movie yells, “I am a golden god!”—they own it, flaws and all.

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But here’s the kicker. I’m auctioning off this beautiful painting of the Sesia River, and I see a familiar face in the crowd. It’s my ex, Lucia. She’s there, looking all fabulous, and I’m like, “What the heck?” My heart’s racing. I try to focus, but all I can think about is how she dumped me for some guy named Fabio. Fabio! Like, who names their kid that?

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