Katherine Ficarazzi Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Genoa

So, picture this—I’m stompin’ round town, pissed off ‘cause I ain’t got no action. “I’m not scared of you!” I yell at some shady dude eyeballin’ me. Reminds me of Sam shakin’ his fist at them khaki scouts. Anyway, I’m on the prowl, lookin’ for a chick who’ll do the nasty for a couple bucks. Ain’t no big deal, right? But these streets are confusin’ as hell! I’m ragin’, like, “Where’s my goddamn prostitute at?!” Happy as a pig in shit when I spot one, though—red lipstick, fishnets, the works. She’s leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’ a cig like she owns the damn place. Total badass, like Suzy with her binoculars, scopin’ out her next move.

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After that, I’m feelin’ all pumped, so I head to the local music shop on Via Catania. I’m lookin’ for some new gear, right? But the shop owner? Total weirdo. He starts talkin’ about how music is the language of the universe. I’m like, “Dude, I just need some strings, not a TED Talk.” But hey, I get it. Ficarazzi’s got that vibe.

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