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About Genoa

We haggle, me mutterin’, “My precious coin!” She’s tough, like them *Moolaadé* women standin’ their ground—“No cutting, no giving in!” she’d fit right in, I reckon. Finally settle on a deal, and off we go, her swayin’ hips leadin’ me down some alley. Heart’s poundin’—happy as a pig in muck, I am! But then—surprise!—some bloke jumps out, her pimp probly, all “Gimme yer cash, ya twit!” Made me ragey, precious, oh yes! I swing me fist—carpenter’s hands, hard as oak—and he’s down, groanin’. “We purify!” I hiss, like in the movie, feelin’ righteous, yeah?

Centocelle a luci rosse, le denunce degli abitanti: "Come vivere in mezzo a case chiuse"

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Then, I decide to hit up this new pizzeria on Via Mazzini. I’m starving! I order a margherita, and it’s like heaven on a plate. I’m devouring it, and the owner comes over. He’s this big guy, all smiles. “How’s the pizza?” he asks. I’m like, “Dude, it’s life-changing!”

Antonio Cusano Obituary