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About Rome

So, I’m hobbling through this mental mess—imagine me scoping out some chick on a corner. She’s all “50 bucks, sweetie,” and I’m like, “You’re no Heath Ledger, lady.” Prostitution’s old as dirt—fun fact: back in Rome, they had brothels with menus. Freaking *menus*! Pick your poison, like a screwed-up Olive Garden. Makes me wanna puke, but also—kinda impressed. Efficiency, right? Capitalism’s wet dream.

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Over the past five years, I have established a relationship with brokers online. Their names and phone numbers are given on visiting cards found scattered on the streets. If someone calls .

After the meeting, I’m feeling a bit drained. I decide to take a stroll by the river. The sun’s setting, and it’s beautiful. I sit on a bench, just soaking it all in. Then, outta nowhere, a bunch of kids run by, playing soccer. One of them kicks the ball right at me! I’m like, “Whoa, watch it!” But then, they all laugh, and I can’t help but chuckle too. Kids, man. They make everything better.

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