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About Catania

I dig into it—X profiles, cryptic posts: “DTF, DM me.” Links go nowhere—404 error city. Reminds me of that line, “You’re not my father!”—screamin’ it at some sketchy pimp avatar who’s catfishing me. LOL, I’m too smart for that, fam. Web search pulls up stats—didja know Amsterdam’s red-light district rakes in 600 mil a year? Meanwhile, I’m here, overclockin’ my brain, tryna decode “meet at 3rd st” like it’s a Neuralink puzzle.

The Psychoanalyst’s Money

By 3 PM, I’m running on fumes. I grab a coffee from that little café on Via Cavour. Best espresso in town, no joke. I’m chugging it down when I get another call. This time, it’s a couple of kids causing chaos at the park near Lago di Pusiano. They’re throwing rocks into the water. I’m like, “What are you, 5?” But I send someone to keep an eye on them. Can’t have a mini riot in Erba, ya know?

Pasta Takes Center Stage at Niven Patel's New Restaurant Erba