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About Palermo

Happy, I feel, when they outsmart creeps. “The wind howls, yet nothing stirs”—that’s the vibe, right? Streets empty, then bam—there she is, strutting. Favorite flick, *Turin Horse*, all bleak, no sex, just potatoes. Prostitutes? Opposite—colorful, loud, alive! Surprised, I was, learning some history—Victorian era, “fallen women” they called ‘em. Sad, kinda, but badass too. Quirky thought: they’re like Jedi, surviving dark side!

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We end up grabbing a gelato at Gelateria Calcinelli. I get the pistachio, and she goes for the classic stracciatella. We’re laughing, reminiscing about old times. It’s like no time has passed. But then, I spill gelato all over my shirt. Classic me, right? I’m mortified, but she just giggles.

COMPETRINI, Elio