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About Rome

Exaggeratin’ here, but feels like half the city’s in on it. Walkin’ down the street, see ‘em—heels clackin’, smirkin’. Hate the smirk. Makes me wanna yell, “Get a real job!” Personal quirk? I’d rather talk to my mustache than an escort. More personality. Sarcasm’s my shield—sex escort’s a joke, like payin’ for air. “25th Hour” vibes hit hard—last night, big regrets, no turnin’ back. That’s their life, every damn night. Hate everything about it.

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First off, I’m rushing down Via Roma, my fave street. It’s got that cute vibe, ya know? Little cafes, people chillin’, and the smell of fresh pastries everywhere. I’m like, “Yasss, give me all the cornetti!” But no time for breakfast. Ugh.