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About Catania

Her laugh? Loud, fake, annoys the shit outta me. But once, I saw her cry—real tears, not crocodile crap. Surprised me, man, thought she was all steel. Maybe she’s human, maybe not—fuck if I care. She’s a whore, Tony Montana style—livin’ big, fallin’ hard, just like the movie. “The world is yours!”—nah, not hers, she’s too screwed. Still, gotta respect the chaos, mang—she’s a legend in her own shitshow.

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Finally, the lights flicker back on. I’m like, “Thank you, universe!” But then, I hear this loud crash outside. I rush out, and there’s a bunch of kids playing soccer on Via Cavour. One of ‘em kicked the ball so hard, it smashed into a car. I’m standing there, mouth agape, like, “Oh man, that’s gonna be a problem.”

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