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Oh honey, lemme tell ya ‘bout findin’ a prostitute, breathless like, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President!” I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ ‘bout “Before Sunset,” that dreamy flick—ya know, where Jesse an’ Celine just wander, talkin’ ‘bout love an’ life, lost in Paris. Sigh, makes me wanna find somethin’ wild myself, ya dig? So, picture this—I’m out, stumblin’ ‘round some shady street, lookin’ for a gal who knows the game, someone to spill secrets with, like Celine spillin’ her soul. Ain’t no script here, just raw vibes.

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After the service, I’m feeling all sorts of emotions. I head over to the local market on Piazza della Libertà. I need a drink. I grab a granita—lemon, of course. It’s hot, and I’m sweating like a pig. I sit on a bench, trying to process everything.

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