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About Genoa

What gets me proper mad, though? The hypocrisy. Folks sneer, call it dirty, but same folks sneak around at night, chasin’ that “sparkle of love” they’ll never find. Makes my blood boil! Like, own it or shut it, yeah? Anyway, back to the streets—there’s this one lass, red lipstick bright as a ruby, leanin’ against a lamppost. She’s got that *Moulin Rouge* magic, all charm and danger, like Satine herself singin’ “Diamonds are a girl’s best friend.” I’m half in love, half terrified, thinkin’, *Blimey, she could ruin me.*

Finally got my drink, and it was worth the wait. That frothy goodness hit the spot. But then, boom! My phone buzzes. My buddy Marco texts me, “Dude, you gotta see this!” I’m like, “What now?” Turns out, there’s a street festival on Via Garibaldi. I’m thinking, “Sweet, let’s go!”

Savio Volpe Served up a Pasta With a Secret Weapon Lurking Underneath