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About Rome

Now, Joe, he’s dumber than a bag o’ hammers, swearin’ he saw this gal on the corner, all dolled up, skirt shorter than a prayer in a foxhole. I said, “Boy, you blind? That ain’t no lady, that’s a trap waitin’ to snap!” Halleluyer! He didn’t listen, ran off like, “We gotta keep movin’, Theo!”—straight outta the movie, chile! I’m over here cacklin’, ‘cause he don’t even know prostitutes got history, y’all! Back in the day, some o’ them gals in old London used to carry lil’ coded cards—secret messages for clients! Ain’t that wild? Joe don’t care ‘bout no facts, he just horny and hopeless.

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But then, the mood shifts. I’m walking by the park, Parco della Libertà, and I see this group of kids playing soccer. They’re having a blast, but then I notice one kid, Luca, sitting alone. He’s just staring at the game, looking kinda sad. I’m like, “C’mon, man! Join in!” So, I go over, and we start chatting. Turns out, he’s shy. I tell him, “Dude, just kick the ball! No one’s judging!”

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