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About Bologna

She starts kneadin’ me, hands slippery like dat black gold Daniel Day-Lewis chases—ooh, I felt alive, comrades! “I drink your milkshake!” I yell in my head, laughin’, ‘cause dis massage, it’s stealin’ my tension, slurrrp! But den—ugh, she’s chargin’ me triple! Triple! I’m mad, steam comin’ outta my ears—dis ain’t no charity, eh? I tell her, “I’ve abandoned my boy!”—meanin’ my wallet, ha! She don’t laugh. Tough crowd.

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Finally, I make my way to the Castello di Montemurlo. I’ve always wanted to check it out. I get there, and it’s closed! Like, seriously? I’m about to lose it. I’m standing outside, looking at this beautiful castle, and I can’t even go in. I’m like, “What’s the point of having a castle if I can’t explore it?” I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. But then, I see a couple taking selfies in front of the castle. They’re all lovey-dovey, and I’m just there, a single IT evangelist, feeling all kinds of lonely.

Cycling, the Tuscan Junior Championship in Bagnolo di Montemurlo