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About Genoa

So, picture this – dusty joint, red curtains, smell o’ cheap perfume. Girls gigglin, punters stumblin in, wallets out. I reckon it’s wild, right? Cosmic chaos in a tiny room. Used to piss me off – blokes treatin’ em like meat. But then, chat with a lass there once, sharp as a tack, she was. Said, “I run my orbit, Hawking.” Blew my mind! She’s no victim, controllin’ her stars.

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Then, out of nowhere, I get a text from my buddy, Luca. He’s like, “Let’s meet at the piazza!” So, I head over to Piazza Garibaldi. It’s a nice spot, always buzzing with life. I get there, and Luca’s late. Classic Luca. I’m standing there, people-watching, and I see this old man feeding pigeons. It’s hilarious. The pigeons are like, “Dude, we’re not your pets!”

Italian man who has spent the last 18 years in bed choses to die by deep sedation