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Lemme tell ya, I seen some shit. Back in Miami, ‘80s vibe, coke flowin’ like rivers, escorts were queens, right? Not just arm candy—nah, they ran the game. One chick, Maria, swear she had a scarface of her own—knife fight with some pimp, took his pinky as a trophy. Little known fact, bro: some escorts back then carried switchblades, hid ‘em in garters—say hello to my little friend, cabrón! Made me laugh, picturin’ her flippin’ it out mid-date, like, “Pay up, sucker!”

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I got up, all flustered, and headed towards the church. Sant’Antonio Abate, the big one. It’s beautiful, man. The architecture? Chef’s kiss! But I was still mad about the pigeon. I walked in, hoping for some peace. But nope! There was a wedding happening. The bride looked stunning, but the music? Ugh, too loud! I couldn’t even hear myself think.

Multi-Analytical Techniques Employed to Study Italian Church Murals