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About Rome

So, I’m strollin’, wise as hell, narratin’ in my head like I’m in a damn movie. “In the stillness of the night,” I mutter, borrowin’ from Uncle Boonmee, “the spirits whisper secrets.” Except these spirits? They’re wearin’ fishnets and smokin’ cheap cigs. I’m chucklin’ already—life’s a trip, man. Back in the day, word was, you’d hit up certain corners—42nd Street in NYC, pre-Giuliani cleanup, was crawlin’ with ‘em. Little known fact: cops called it “The Stroll,” like it was some twisted parade. Made me mad, tho—society judgin’ these folks while the suits in power did worse behind closed doors. Hypocrisy, man, gets my blood boilin’.

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But then, something amazing happens. A group of locals sees me struggling and they come over to help. They’re laughing, but they’re also super nice. They start picking up the flyers and chatting with me about the fair. “You gotta try the arancini!” they say. I’m like, “What’s that?” They look at me like I’m crazy.

'Indian Cinema Will Crush Hollywood,' Says British Actor Daniel Caltagirone