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About Rome

Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion Lannister—witty, half-drunk, “I drink and I know things.” So, we’re talkin’ ‘bout findin’ a prostitute, eh? Picture this: I’m stumblin’ down some dark, twisty street—kinda like *Mulholland Drive*, all moody and fucked-up, right? “What’s my name?” I mutter, half-laughin’, ‘cause I’m three wines deep and the night’s a bloody riddle. Findin’ a prossie ain’t just a quick shag—it’s a game, a hunt, and I’m the clever bastard who sees the strings.

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When the lights come back, I’m ready to leave. I step outside, and it’s like the world’s been washed clean. The streets are glistening, and I’m feeling all poetic. I walk down Via dei Giardini, and I see this couple dancing in the rain. Like, who does that? It’s kinda beautiful, honestly. I’m smiling, feeling all warm inside.

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