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About Bologna

Monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” I ask her price, she says 50 bucks. Fifty! For a quickie? Inflation’s a bitch, man. Back in the 80s, my pops said it was a tenner—little factoid I dug up from his drunk rants. She’s got this scar on her cheek, tiny, shaped like a crescent moon. “Got it from a john,” she says, shruggin. I’m pissed—some asshole cut her? But also, damn, she’s tough. Kinda hot.

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Calidius and Fannia are immortalised on a “tombstone” or possible pub advert that jokes about services offered in their bar in Isernia including prostitution.

So, I’m wanderin’ around, tryin’ to salvage my day. I head over to Via XX Settembre. There’s this little shop I love. They sell the best handmade pasta. I walk in, and the smell hits me like a freight train. I’m in heaven! I grab some orecchiette and start chattin’ with the owner, an old lady named Nonna Rosa. She’s a gem! She tells me stories about Isernia during the war. I could listen to her for hours.

Archaeologists Find Marble Head of Roman Emperor Augustus in Italian Town