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About Naples

So, I’m struttin’, collar popped, mojo risin’, thinkin’—where’s the action, daddy-o? Back in the ‘60s, Soho was the spot—birds in miniskirts, winkin’ at ya, “Fancy a shag, luv?” Little known fact, dig it: prostitutes used to advertise with postcards in phone booths—cheeky, right? None of that Tinder rubbish, just pure, old-school hustle. Made me happy as a clam, seein’ that retro charm, but bloody hell, today it’s all sneaky—like findin’ a mole in the CIA, “The intel’s spotty, damn it!”

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So, I’m feeling good, right? I stroll down Via Roma, soaking in the vibes. The cobblestones are all uneven, and I almost trip. Classic me. But then I see this street performer near the old church, Sant’Ambrogio. He’s playing the accordion, and it’s kinda magical. I toss him a couple of euros, and he gives me a nod like I just changed his life.

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