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About Bari

Da, so escort, huh? Cold game, calculated moves. Like in “Memento” – memory’s a bitch. You don’t know who’s who. Escort’s the same – trust’s a luxury. Met this chick once, high-class escort. Swore she was ex-KGB, ha! Prolly bullshit, but sounded cool. “I don’t have a past,” she says. Straight outta Nolan’s script, right? “You don’t remember me?” – nah, I don’t. Made me laugh, tho. These girls, they hustle hard. Cash up front, no names. Reminds me of Lenny’s tattoos – rules to live by.

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So, I’m walkin’ down Via Garibaldi, tryin’ to shake off the cat drama. I see this old dude, Mr. Puglisi, sittin’ on his porch. He’s always got some wild story. Today, he’s talkin’ about how he once saw a UFO over the Chiesa Madre. I’m like, “Sure, Mr. Puglisi, aliens love Raffadali.” But honestly, I love his stories. They crack me up.

Fig. 5 Relief with an Emperor and Vestal Virgins from Caronia Marina or...