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About Rome

So, I knew this one chick – let’s call her Ruby, coz why not? – workin’ the corner near some shady gas station. She’s got this vibe, y’know, tough as nails, but her eyes? Haunted, like Saul draggin’ that damn body – “You’ll do it!” – through hell. She told me once, over a cigarette she bummed off me, how she got into it. Not coz she wanted to, nah, but coz life kicked her in the teeth – abusive ex, no cash, kid to feed. Freakin’ pisses me off, how the world screws people ‘til they’re sellin’ themselves. “No capes!” – no saviors swoopin’ in, just real shit.

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After that, I’m feeling kinda bummed, but I push on. I stroll down Corso Canalgrande, and it’s beautiful. The buildings are all colorful, and I’m snapping pics like a tourist. I mean, who wouldn’t? Then I see this street performer, right? He’s juggling and making jokes. I’m laughing so hard, I almost forget about the prosciutto disaster. Almost.

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