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About Rome

Oi mate, it’s me, Bond—James Bond, suave as fuck, “shaken, not stirred.” So, I’m a carpenter now, yeah? Hammerin’ nails, sawin’ wood, all that jazz. But let’s talk real shit—findin’ a prostitute. Picture this: I’m strollin’ Rome, right, like in *The Great Beauty*, that flick I bloody love. “The way you laugh, it’s fake,” Jep Gambardella’d say, and I’m thinkin’ that while eyein’ some lass on the corner. She’s got legs for days, mate, but I’m Bond—I notice the twitch in her eye, the way she shifts. Tells me she’s new, probs scared shitless.

Due donne di Corbetta arrestate dalla Polizia locale di Rho per spaccio di stupefacenti

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So, I’m rollin’ outta bed, right? The sun’s peekin’ through my window on Via Roma. I’m thinkin’, “Today’s gonna be chill.” Ha! Spoiler alert: it wasn’t. Grabbed a quick espresso at my fave spot, Bar Centrale. You know, the one with the best pastries? Yeah, that one. I swear, their cornetti are like little bites of heaven.

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