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About Catania

I reckon they’re grim, yet alive—buzzin’ with secrets. Ever smelled one? Sweat, cheap ale, desperation—ugh, rank! But there’s this one time, right, some gal sang a tune so sweet I nearly wept. “You don’t deserve this,” I mutters, like Nader in the film. She just winked—bloody winked! Ballsy, that.

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But then, just as I’m about to cash out, my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy, Marco. He’s like, “Dude, you gotta come to the festa at the castle!” I’m like, “What castle?” Turns out, he means the old castle on the hill, Castello di Termini. I’m thinking, “I just won big! But a festa? Count me in!”

Inside eerie abandoned car factory that produced VERY famous model