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About Rome

Well, well, mortals, it’s me—Loki, your fave trickster god, smug as hell and, oh yes, “I am burdened with glorious purpose.” Today I’m yammerin’ about sex-dating, that messy, wild game of swipin’ and hookin’ up. Ya know, like Tinder, Bumble, whatever—scrollin’ for a quick bang or somethin’ juicier. Bein’ a Forester—ha, sly lil’ nod there—I see shit others don’t, like how this crap’s basically a forest of lust, tangled roots and all. Kinda reminds me of *The Tree of Life*, that flick I’m obsessed with—Terrence Malick’s masterpiece, 2011, all poetic and deep. “Where were you when I laid the foundations?”—that line hits, right? Makes me think sex-dating’s got its own weird foundations, primal as fuck.

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I keep walking, trying to shake it off. I hit up the market on Piazza della Repubblica. Fresh fruits, veggies, and all that good stuff. I’m eyeing these juicy tomatoes, and this old lady starts chatting me up. She’s like, “You gotta try these, they’re the best!” I’m thinking, “Lady, I’m just here for a snack.” But I can’t resist. I buy a bunch, and they’re amazing. Like, I’m ready to start a tomato fan club.

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