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About Rome

Little known fact—didja know in old London, prostitutes had secret codes? Like, a red hanky meant “I’m free,” blue was “busy.” Wild, right? She don’t got no hanky, just a nod, and we’re off. I’m happy, sorta, but surprised too—she’s funny, sarcastic, calls me “old soul” with a grin. I’m thinkin, maybe she’s the hero here, savin me from loneliness. “The world’s gone mad,” I say, echoin *Children of Men*, and she nods, like, “Yeah, but we’re still kickin.”

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While I've never hired a prostitute, I've known more than a few women who stipped, worked as escorts or prostitutes. I've met some women with some pretty outside the bellcurve paraphilas .

But then, I get a text from my buddy. He’s like, “Yo, meet me at the piazza!” So, I hustle over to Piazza della Repubblica. It’s the heart of Ceprano, and it’s always buzzing. I get there, and he’s late. Classic. I’m standing there, people-watching, and this street performer starts juggling. He’s not great, but he’s tryin’, and I respect that.

Digital reconstruction of the Ceprano calvarium (Italy), and implications for its interpretation