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About Genoa

So, picture this—I’m drivin’ down some sketchy backroad, lookin’ for a story. Not sayin’ I was huntin’ a prostitute myself, nah, but I seen ‘em. Neon lights flickerin’, girls in heels higher than a Texas oil rig. One time, I swear, this gal waved at me—thought I was a john! Made me madder’n a wet hen. I ain’t that guy! But then I laughed—life’s funny, y’all. How’s that workin’ for ya, struttin’ your stuff for a quick buck?

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Then, I decide to take a walk down Via Cavour. Beautiful street, by the way. Trees everywhere, cute little shops. I’m vibing, listening to my tunes, when I see this street performer. He’s playing the accordion, and honestly, he’s killing it! I’m standing there, clapping along, feeling all the feels. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs by and knocks over his hat. Money goes flying everywhere! I’m like, “Dude, what are you doing?!” The performer just laughs it off, but I’m fuming. Like, how can you be so careless?

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