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About Genoa

Now, don’t get me wrong—I ain’t judgin’. Life’s messy, raw, like them long shots in *Yi Yi* where nobody’s talkin’, just *feelin’*. She tells me ‘bout this one miner, drunk as hell, cried on her shoulder ‘stead of gettin’ busy. “Poor bastard,” she says, “missed his wife somethin’ fierce.” I’m like, damn, that’s heavy—made me pause, ya know? Human as hell, even in this game. Got me thinkin’ ‘bout family, ‘bout what pushes folks to the edge.

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After the meeting, I decide to treat myself. I hit up that gelato place on Via Dante. I get a scoop of pistachio and a scoop of stracciatella. Heaven! I’m sitting there, enjoying my treat, and I see this cute dog. It’s just chilling, and I’m like, “Man, I wish I could be that dog.”

A jewel of Italian rationalism is reopening in northern italy