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About Genoa

Sometimes I think bout em too much. Gets me antsy—happy, sad, all twisted up. They’re like… livin art, ya know? Flawed, messy, but goddamn captivatin. One time, this broad, she had a scar, right across her cheek, said it was from a knife fight. Swear to God, I believed her, got all hot thinkin bout it. Prolly just fell off a barstool, tho. Still, fuckin epic. Whores, man… they’re the real deal, even when they ain’t.

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While I’m munching, Marco starts talking about his latest “adventure.” He went hiking up Monte San Martino and got lost for hours. I’m laughing so hard, I almost choke on my pizza. I mean, who gets lost in their own backyard? But then he pulls out his phone and shows me pics of the view. Wow. Just wow. The hills, the valleys, it’s breathtaking. Makes me wanna hike too, but then I remember my legs are not made for that.

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