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About Rome

I roll up, window down, heart poundin like a drum. She’s all, “Hey, sugar, you lost?” and I’m laughin inside—lost? Hell, I been lost since ’92! “How much?” I ask, tryin to play it cool, but my voice cracks like a damn teenager. She throws a number, and I’m shocked—$50? What in tarnation? Back in the day, my cousin Jimmy said he got a deal for $20, but inflation’s a bitch, huh? “How’s that workin for ya?” I mutter to myself, countin crumpled bills.

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So, I’m back on the grind, running through the narrow streets of Osimo. I pass by the Duomo, and it’s stunning as always. I stop for a sec, take a deep breath, and think, “Man, I love this city.” But then, I remember I’m late for a meeting. Classic me, right?

Police units strut their skills in the saddle at Carousel Park