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About Naples

I saunter over, cool as you like—gotta keep it smooth, right? “Evening, love,” I say, flashin’ that 007 grin. She’s all sass, “What’s yer poison, handsome?” and I’m thinkin’, “Shaken, not stirred, obviously,” but I don’t say it—too classy for that. Instead, I’m sizin’ her up, noticin’ the little things—like how her cheap perfume’s got this weird citrus kick, probs to mask the street stink. Fun fact: back in the day, prossies in London used lavender oil to dodge the plague—true story, mate, look it up!

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So, I hit the streets, right? I’m walking down Via Roma, and it’s packed with locals. Everyone’s buzzing, chatting, and I’m just vibin’. But then, BAM! I step in a puddle. Like, who even leaves a puddle there? My shoes are soaked, and I’m like, “Great start, genius.”

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