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About Bari

Found this chick once—Lola, she called herself. Worked outta some grimy alley, smelled like cheap perfume and despair. Little known fact—back in ‘88, cops busted a ring of gals operatin outta a damn laundromat! Washin more than clothes, ya feel me? Lola tho, she had grit—surprised me, a lil spark in her dead eyes. Made me happy, like findin a vein of ore in the dark. “You don’t know what I can do,” I growled, Vader-style, testin her nerve. She didn’t flinch—badass.

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My first and foremost acknowledgment must go to my supervisors, Richard and René, for their guidance and inspiration throughout the years.

Finally, I get to the stables, and my horse, Bella, is just chillin’. She’s like, “What’s up, dude?” I swear, she’s got more personality than half the people I know. We get ready for the race, and I’m pumped. The crowd’s buzzin’ at the racetrack, and I can feel the energy.

Tales from the Peninsula: The birth of the Molfettesi derby -