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About Genoa

I’m hummin’, cuttin’ her hair, thinkin’—she’s kinda hot, in a wrecked sorta way. “What’re we even doin’ here?” I say, like in the movie, and she smirks, “Gettin’ by, barber man.” Surprised me, that sass! Love it. Oh, and get this—some dude once paid her to just *talk*. Didn’t even fuck her! Weirdos out there, Clarice… makes ya wonder.

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After that, I decide to hit the beach. You know, relax a bit. So I stroll down to Lungomare, and it’s packed. Families, couples, everyone’s soaking up the sun. I plop down on the sand, and this seagull swoops in like it’s on a mission. I swear, it snatches my sandwich right outta my hand! I’m like, “Hey! That was my lunch!” But the bird just looks at me like, “Sorry, dude. It’s mine now.” I’m fuming, but I can’t help but laugh. Stupid bird.

Under the Sicilian sun