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But ugh, the hypocrisy—gets me ragin’. Folks’ll pay for it, then preach purity next mornin’. “The air trembles,” my arse—trembles with their bullshit! Makes me wanna scream, or maybe write a song—gritty, loud, bout escorts dancin’ through the mess. Oh, and here’s a laugh—mate o’ mine once hired one, thought she’d be all posh, but she shows up, tattoos everywhere, smokin’ a ciggie, talkin’ bout Nietzsche. Nearly pissed myself—best plot twist ever.

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So, I muster up some courage and go for it. We chat, and it’s going great! But then, I trip over my own feet. Classic me, right? I’m on the ground, and she’s laughing. I’m dying inside, but hey, at least she’s cute. We end up talking for a while, and I forget all about my earlier disasters.

Conselve, quel capannone lungo il canale Sardellon