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About Palermo

I reckon it’s like that scene in *Timbuktu*—y’know, my fave flick from 2014, Abderrahmane Sissako’s masterpiece—where the desert’s all quiet, but there’s tension brewin’ underneath. “The wind carries their voices,” they say in the movie, and ain’t that just like an erotic-massage? Soft touches, whispers in the air, but it’s stirrin’ somethin’ wild inside! I got happy as a pig in mud thinkin’ ‘bout how it’s all secret-like—didja know in ancient Rome, them rich folks had “massage parlors” that weren’t just for sore backs? Oh yeah, wink-wink, they was gettin’ frisky behind them curtains!

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After that, I decided to stroll down to the Mart Museum. It’s this super cool modern art place. I love it! But today? Ugh. There was a line longer than the one for a concert. I was like, “Seriously? For art?” But whatever, I waited. I mean, it’s Rovereto, right? Gotta embrace the culture.

The Modern Painters of Reality on display at the Mart in Rovereto: Sciltian, Annigoni, the Buenos