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About Palermo

Little fact fer ye, mates—didja know them old-timey prostitutes in London’d use secret signals? Like a red hanky in the window meant “come on up, sailor!” Ain’t that a hoot? Surprised me, it did—thought they’d just yell it from the rooftops! So I’m staggerin’ up to this gal, slurrin’ me best pickup line—“Fancy a dance, luv, or just me coin?” She laughs, an’ I’m thinkin’, *Jack, ye still got it, ye sly dog*. Savvy?

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We barely miss it, and I’m half-laughing, half-crying. I mean, come on! A pigeon? In Fara-Gera-d-Adda? That’s just my luck. After that, we hit the roundabout at Piazza della Libertà. You know, the one with that weird statue? I always joke that it looks like a confused tourist. Anyway, Marco’s still shaky, and I’m trying to keep it light.

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