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About Catania

Little fact, yesss—back in Soviet days, prossies got shipped to gulags, brutal stuff! Now? Cops don’t care much—bribe ‘em with a few rubles, and they’re blind. Hiss! Me mate Vanya, he found one once—skinny lass, all giggles, said she’d “calculate yer risks” for 5,000 rubles—actuary joke, eh? Made me laugh, precious, ‘til she nicked his wallet! Grrr, sneaky bitch! Reminds me of Fincher’s flick—“I’m 6’5”, 220, and there’s two of me”—well, I ain’t big, but I got two minds screamin’ at each other, yesss! One says, “Find her!” Other says, “Fool, you’ll catch somethin’ nasty!”

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

We get to her place, and it’s like stepping into a time machine. Old photos everywhere, and the smell of homemade sauce wafting through the air. She served us the best gnocchi I’ve ever had. I was in heaven! I told her she should open a restaurant. She laughed and said, “Only if you help me!”

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