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About Palermo

Last week, saw one outside me flat—stunnin’, mate, legs for days. Felt happy, y’know, just watchin’ her work it—pure art! *“Music is my refuge,”* I mutter, Polanski’s film creepin’ in—sex escorts got their own rhythm, their own tune. But then—BAM—some drunk punter grabs her arm, and I’m ragin’. Wanted to clock him meself! She handled it tho—ice-cold, told him to sod off. Respect, innit?

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I finally head home, and as I’m drivin’ through Crescentino, I can’t help but smile. Yeah, today was a rollercoaster. But it’s my town, with its quirky streets and friendly folks. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Even if it means dodging bikes and dealin’ with rain.

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