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About Palermo

We head to this dingy flat—smells like fags and regret. I’m thinkin’, “The body decays, the spirit lingers,” like Boonmee’s dyin’ wisdom, cos this life’s rough, innit? She’s crackin’ jokes, though—says I look like a toff who’s lost his castle. Cheeky mare! I’m lovin’ it, cos she’s got banter, and I’m a sucker for that. “You’re a rare one,” I tell her, and she winks—pure class.

So you want to book a sex worker?

Finally, I get to the office, and my boss, Luca, is already on my case. “Where are the quarterly reports?” he barks. I’m like, “Chill, man! I’m on it!” But inside, I’m like, “Dude, I’m not a magician.” I mean, I love numbers, but sometimes they just don’t add up, ya know?

COMPETRINI, Elio