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Yo, can you smell what The Rock is cookin’? Raised eyebrow, “Know your role.” Talkin’ bout prostitutes, man, gets me fired up! Saw this chick once, workin’ the corner—tough as nails. Reminds me of *Let the Right One In*, ya know? That flick’s my jam—creepy, raw, real. “I’m not a girl, I’m a boy,” she coulda said, switchin’ it up like Oskar’s pal Eli. Life’s a damn mess, right?

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As the night goes on, I pour a few more drinks, and the place is buzzing. I’m feeling good, you know? Then, I spot this couple sitting in the corner. They’re all lovey-dovey, whispering sweet nothings. I can’t help but roll my eyes. Like, get a room, right? But then, they order a bottle of Prosecco, and I’m like, “Okay, maybe love is in the air.”

Alberto Martini and the imagery of Poe on display in Oderzo, on the 70th anniversary of the artist's death