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About Palermo

Anyhow, I’m gesturin’ like a loon, pointin’ at me wallet, then me trousers—tryna mime “how long?” without lookin’ a perv. She’s cacklin’ now, says, “Ten minutes, big boy.” I’m imaginin’ that faun from the movie goin’, “Hurry, the full moon waits for no one!”—cracks me up, that. So I’m in, right, but—OOF!—trip over a bin, land arse-first in a puddle. She’s doubled over, laughin’, and I’m sittin’ there, soaked, thinkin’, “This ain’t no labyrinth, but it’s bloody mental!” Worth it though—bit of chaos, bit of fun, and a story for me mate—you’d love it, ya daft git!

Tu suscripción se está usando en otro dispositivo

So, I’m in line, ready to buy some of that fresh bread, when my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy Marco. He’s like, “Dude, you gotta come to the park!” I’m thinking, “What’s so special about the park?” But Marco’s persistent, so I’m like, “Fine, I’ll swing by.”

A Homemade Pasta Machine for Slow Food Enthusiasts