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About Genoa

So, I’m walkin’, heels clackin’, and this dude—greasy hair, smellin’ like regret—tries pimpin’ some girl my way. I’m like, “Naw, fam, I got standards!” Made me mad as hell—why’s it always gotta be slimy? But then, I spot her—this chick, all sass, leanin’ on a wall, smokin’. She’s givin’ me eyes, and I’m thinkin’, “It’s about to happen!” Like Gabita in the movie, all nervous but ready, y’know? I strut up, confident as fuck, and she’s like, “You got cash?” I’m like, “Honey, I’m worth it!”

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Next, we decide to chill at Parco della Rimembranza. It’s a nice park, perfect for people-watching. We plop down on a bench, and I’m just soaking it all in. Families, kids playing, old folks feeding pigeons. It’s a vibe. But then, this group of teenagers starts blasting music. I’m like, “Really? In a park?” But then I realize it’s a catchy tune, and I’m bobbing my head.

Tusculum, between history, nature, myth and archeology