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About Rome

Alright, so here’s the deal with whores—yeah, I said it, whores! Tina Fey comin’ at ya, snarky as hell, “I can see Russia from my house!” vibe. Whores, man, they’re everywhere, always have been, right? Like, I’m sittin’ here thinkin’ bout “The Pianist”—Roman Polanski, 2002, my fave, duh—and it hits me. Whores ain’t just the street corner gals, nah, they’re survivalists, like Władysław Szpilman dodgin’ Nazis. “I must go on living,” he says, and whores? Same energy. They’re hustlin’, scrapin’ by, dodgin’ society’s bullshit judgments.

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But then, I got a bit lost. I took a wrong turn on Via Manzoni. I swear, Lainate’s streets are like a maze! I ended up near the train station, and I was like, “Great, just what I needed.” But then I saw the sunset. OMG, it was beautiful! The sky was all pink and orange. I just stood there, forgetting my frustrations.

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