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Then—omg—this shady dude DMs me, like, “I got girls.” Ew, creep alert! I’m like, “Literally, get outta my face!” Blocked him so fast, my nails almost chipped. But real talk, I’m thinkin’—what if I find her, right? We’d totes sit on some curb, sippin’ Starbucks, talkin’ life—like Celine sayin’, “Memory’s a wonderful thing if u don’t deal with the past.” Deep, huh? I’d ask her, “Girl, what’s ur story?” Probs somethin’ wild—like, did u know some pros in the ‘90s hid cash in tree stumps? True tea!

Sant'Agata de' Goti: A Hidden Gem in Italy

Sant’Agata dei Goti glows with an authentic, rustic beauty, magnificent, yet at the same time, incredibly delicate, like the fragile tuff stone to which this miraculous borgo owes its www.facebook.comg: prostitute.

Then I hit up Via San Francesco. It’s narrow, like, you could barely fit a car. But the buildings? Oh man, they’re ancient! I’m snapping pics like a tourist on steroids. I see this little café, and I’m like, “Coffee time!” I order an espresso, and the barista gives me this look. Like, “You sure you can handle it?” I’m like, “Dude, I’m a pro.”

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