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About Catania

Clarice… a brothel, huh? Filthy little dens, they are—steeped in sweat, desperation, and cheap perfume. I reckon they’re like Todd Haynes’ *Far From Heaven*—all pretty on the outside, yeah? “A perfect life… until it isn’t.” That’s the vibe. Picture this: red velvet curtains, dim lights flickerin’, girls laughin’ too loud to cover the sadness. Brothels ain’t just sex shops, nah—they’re theaters of human mess. Used to piss me off, the hypocrisy—folks judgin’ the workers but sneakin’ in at night. “What’s proper is what’s expected,” right? Bullshit.

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My GGGF was married to a lady named Maria perhaps her maiden name was Ippolito. I couldn't find any record of this in the Cassano allo Ionio records, perhaps I.

So, I’m settin’ up my chair, and this kid runs by, totally wipes out on the sand. I’m like, “Dude, you okay?” He just laughs it off. Kids, man. They bounce back like rubber balls. But then, I see his mom, and she’s freakin’ out. Like, chill, lady! It’s just sand!

In Cosenza the National Hunting Test on snipe on 14 and 15 January