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About Rome

Anyways, smokejumpers, fuckin’ legends, yeah? We’re nuts—parachutin’ into blazes, no roads, no backup, just guts. Reminds me of *Ratatouille*—yep, my fave flick. “Anyone can cook,” Remy says, right? Well, anyone can jump into hellfire too, if they’re crazy enough! I love that lil’ rat—smartarse, scrappy, like me. Whores—er, smokejumpers—got that same vibe. Underdogs, y’know? People think we’re just reckless twats, but nah, we know shit. We see the flames others don’t.

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We laugh, we reminisce about our late-night sketching sessions at the park by the lake. I mean, Lago di Bracciano is just a stone’s throw away, and we used to chill there for hours. But now, he’s off to the big city. I’m happy for him, but also kinda bummed.

Roman holiday: just beyond the city lies a land of popes and emperors