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About Rome

Oh, typo city—esocrts, ha! Sex sells, man, always has. Ever think bout how old this gig is? Like, ancient Rome had ‘em, callin’ ‘em “lupae”—means she-wolves, how badass is that? Makes me grin, thinkin’ they’re out there howlin’ at the moon, rakin’ it in. It’s showtime, bitches—go get that fuckin’ money!

One surprise after another along the Arno, a stone's throw from Florence

Finally, the rain stops, and I make a run for it. I’m soaked, but whatever. Back to the grind. The afternoon drags on, and I’m buried in spreadsheets. I swear, numbers are dancing in my head. Then, my phone buzzes. It’s a message from my buddy Marco. He’s like, “Let’s hit up the pizzeria later!” I’m in!

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