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About Genoa

Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!” Alright, pal, lemme tell ya bout escort—ain’t talkin’ fancy cars here, nah, I mean the sporty, gritty escort athletes get, ya know, guiding ‘em through the chaos of their heads! As a sports shrink, I’ve seen it—players lost in their own damn skulls, sweatin’ buckets, needin’ someone to drag ‘em outta that mess. Kinda like that scene in *4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days*—y’know, “We’re not criminals!”—they’re screamin’ it inside, but the pressure’s crushin’ ‘em anyway.

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But then, as I’m leaving, I trip over a cobblestone. Classic Aversa, right? I’m sprawled out on the ground, coffee flying everywhere. I’m like, “Great, just great.” A couple of old ladies on Via Cesare Battisti see me and start cackling. I mean, I get it, I looked ridiculous. But c’mon, have some compassion!

D’Aversa: ‘Empoli leave semi final with heads held high’