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About Rome

Once caught this sleazy git—massage parlour, dodgy as fuck—signed “relax” wrong, looked like “shag me.” Pissed me off, yeah, but hilarious too—wanted to slap him silly. Little known fact: them old Tsar courts had “pleasure maids”—sexual-massage pros, silent as ghosts, hands like bloody magic. Surprised me, that—thought I’d seen it all.

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So, I’m laughin’ it off, but then I see this old man. He’s sittin’ on a bench, lookin’ all wise and stuff. I go up to him, and he starts tellin’ me stories about the town. Like, did you know Sala-Consilina used to be a big deal back in the day? Yeah, it was a hub for trade and all that jazz. I’m just noddin’ along, but inside I’m thinkin’, “Man, I just wanna get back to my sheep.”

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