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About Bologna

Oh, and the smells—god forbid! Stale perfume, cigarette smoke—my nose would revolt! I’d be rantin’, “Can’t you Febreeze this joint?” Total “Dogville” moment—Grace puttin’ up with filth, me whinin’ about it. I’d probly tip too much outta guilt—neurotic, right? “Here’s an extra twenty—sorry for existin’!” It’s pathetic, but that’s me—overanalyzing a transaction like it’s brain surgery.

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After that, I decide to stroll down Via Roma. It’s bustling, people everywhere. I love the vibe, but it’s a bit much sometimes. I see this street vendor selling arancini. I can’t resist. I grab one, and it’s like a flavor explosion in my mouth. I’m talking crispy on the outside, gooey on the inside. Heaven!

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