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About Genoa

Quirky thought—reckon it smells like oil and regret inside. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d shag the exhaust if I could—pure lust! “Sharon!”—she’d kill me for sayin’ that. Escort’s like a mate who’s seen too much—rough, loud, loyal. Not perfect, nah—gearbox probs, leaky roof—but who gives a fuck? Character, innit?

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So, I’m walking down Corso Vittorio Emanuele, and it’s packed. Tourists everywhere, snapping pics of the old buildings. I love the vibe, but seriously, can they not stand in the middle of the sidewalk? I almost knocked over this poor guy with a selfie stick. Like, dude, it’s not that serious!

Enas works on Coghinas, water in fits and starts in Sassari