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About Genoa

Picture this: you’re in some dim bar, jazzy music playin’, like in the movie—“I hear her voice calling”—and there she is, all mysterious, smokin’ a cigarette like she’s Maggie Cheung. You’re nervous, sweatin’ bullets, thinkin’, “Am I cool enough for this?” Pro tip: cash only, no cards—don’t be that idiot leavin’ a paper trail. And don’t haggle like a cheapskate—pisses me off when dudes do that. Have some class, ya dope! I mean, “The air is full of madness,” right? That’s the thrill—danger, secrets, the whole shebang.

This Opera Gives Sex Workers a Voice

Anyway, I chugged my coffee and dashed to the Teatro Massimo. I was pumped! I mean, it’s the biggest opera house in Italy, right? The architecture is insane! Like, I could stare at those columns all day. But then, BAM! I realized I forgot my ticket. Ugh! I had to sprint back to my place. I felt like a total idiot.

Glamor and glitz: A look at Metropolitan Opera's first appearance in Oklahoma City in 1950