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About Rome

What gets me goat, tho? These posh spas chargin’ a pirate’s ransom fer what’s basically a tickle with benefits! Fifty quid fer an hour o’ “ooh, that’s the spot”? I’d rather wrestle a kraken, aye! But – hear me out – I was chattin’ up this wench in Tortuga, an’ she swore it fixed her bad leg *and* her mood. Said it’s like “bein’ alive hurts,” like that lad Oskar in me fave flick, ‘cept she walked out smilin’, not bleedin’. Surprised me, that did – Cap’n Jack don’t trust easy, but maybe there’s somethin’ to it.

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After that drama, I needed a break. So, I hit up the local café on Piazza Rocco. Best espresso in town, no joke. I grab my cup, and just as I’m about to take a sip, I see this cute girl at the next table. She’s laughing, and I’m like, “Wow, she’s got a killer smile.” But then, bam! My phone buzzes. It’s my buddy Marco, asking if I wanna hit up the market later. I’m like, “Sure, why not?”

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