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About Bologna

So, you’re lyin’ there, right, starkers, some stranger’s paws all over ya—bit weird, innit? Like in *Caché*, “What’s behind the curtain?”—ya don’t know who’s watchin’! I’d say it’s intimate, sensual—like a dance, but horizontal, ha! Exaggeratin’ a tad, maybe, but it’s *faber suae quisque fortunae*—every man’s the blacksmith of his own fate, so why not enjoy a knead? Once had one meself—therapist was a brick shithouse, hands like hams, nearly broke me spine—cried “Blimey, ease up!” but felt reborn after, proper *deus ex machina* moment.

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, seriously? I just got my gelato! We dash inside, laughing like idiots, and I’m thinking, “This day is a mess, but at least I got gelato.”

In Italy, ‘Io Resto a Casa,’ but Still I Dance (Published 2020)