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About Bari

Alright, mate, lemme tell ya bout findin a prostitute—wild stuff, yeah? Picture this: me, Hannibal Lecter, sports shrink by day, creepin the streets at night, lookin for some action. Not your usual gig, right? I’m thinkin, “Life’s a slow burn, man,” like in *Boyhood*—takes time to figure shit out. Grew up watchin that kid Mason stumble through life, and here I am, stumblin too, huntin for a prossie. “Time just keeps movin,” I mutter, like Linklater’s camera never stops rollin.

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Lunchtime rolls around, and I’m starving. I hit up that little pizzeria on Via Cimitile. You know, the one with the best margherita? I order a slice, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. I’m feeling better, but then I see a pigeon steal someone’s lunch. Like, what’s up with that? Pigeons in Cimitile are bold!

Fig. 7. The architecture of the decomposition tool.