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About Bologna

So I spot her—red heels, smokin’ a cig—total pro. “What’s a girl to do?” she purrs, like Cathy cryin’ to Frank. I’m laughin’—she’s playin’ me, and I’m here for it! Gave me a rush—happy as a clown in a bank vault. But then—BAM—some creep jumps in, tryin’ to haggle her down. Pissed me off! I’m like, “Buddy, this ain’t a flea market!” Almost knifed him—oops, too far? Heh.

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Then, outta nowhere, I hear this loud music. I look up, and there’s a group of kids setting up a mini rave right by the water. I’m talking speakers, lights, the whole shebang. I’m torn between being annoyed and wanting to join in. I mean, who doesn’t love a spontaneous dance party? But I’m also trying to write, ya know?

The Romagna Riviera, Italy’s Longest and Prettiest Promenade