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About Palermo

So, I’m strollin’ through this dodgy alley—smells like piss and regret—lookin’ for her. Eyes sharp, suit crisp, cos even here, I’m the smoothest bastard around. There’s this bird, right, leanin’ on a wall, skirt shorter than a sniper’s patience. I’m like, “Oi, love, you workin’?” She smirks, all sassy, “Depends who’s askin’, handsome.” Cheeky minx! I’m chuffed—she’s got spirit, not just some dead-eyed doll.

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Finally, I make my way to the local gelato shop, Gelateria Artigianale. I need something sweet to fix my day. I order pistachio, my fave. But guess what? They’re out! I’m like, “Are you kidding me?” So I settle for lemon. Not the same, but whatever.

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