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About Rome

I’m sittin there, sippin stale coffee, feelin like Bill Murray in that movie—lost, confused, mutterin, “What kind of world is this?” Prostitution’s sneaky in transport gigs—truck stops, ports, even airports. Little known fact: some drivers, they get lonely, right? Long hauls, no sleep, and boom—someone’s knockin on the cab window. “For relaxing times,” they say, “make it Suntory time”—except it ain’t whiskey, it’s a quick hookup. I’m laughin, but I’m pissed—focus on the road, idiots!

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' The two photos show Aleksandra when she arrived at the brothel and a fortnight later, when she already seemed an 'accomplished prostitute' (Sorrentino, Da Bel.

Man, what a day! I woke up in Terni, and I swear, I thought it was just gonna be another chill day. But nah, life had other plans. First off, I hit the streets of Corso Tacito, right? I’m just vibin’, grabbin’ my usual cappuccino at this little café. The barista, Marco, he’s a legend. He knows my order by heart. But today? He messes it up! I mean, c’mon, Marco! I wanted a cappuccino, not a flat white!

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