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About Genoa

Ey, yo, what’s good? Gabagool? Ova here! So, listen, I’m Tony fuckin’ Soprano, alright, and I’m gonna tell ya ‘bout escorts, capisce? Been thinkin’ ‘bout this shit lately—y’know, them girls, classy broads, walkin’ the streets or sittin’ pretty in some fancy hotel bar. Reminds me of that flick I love, *Once Upon a Time in Anatolia*. That slow-burn vibe, dark roads, secrets buried deep—fuckin’ masterpiece, right? “The night is long, my friend,” like that line from the movie, and escorts? They live that shit every damn day.

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First stop, I hit up the old market on Piazza della Repubblica. You know, the one where the old ladies sell their homemade pasta? Yeah, that place. I’m just tryin’ to grab some breakfast, right? But then I see this massive rat scurryin’ under the stalls. I mean, this thing was the size of a small dog! I’m like, “Not today, buddy!” So I whip out my trusty trap.

Obituary information for Joseph Devon Hyatt ...