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About Naples

I’m pissed tho—too many fakes. Dudes pretendin to pimp, wastin my time. “Who are these idiots?” I mutter. Last week, nearly punched one—skinny rat, smelled like vodka and lies. But then—boom—found a gem. Quiet type, eyes like steel. “You’re not here to talk,” she says. Smart. I like that. Paid her quick, no fuss. “The world’s a machine,” I think—straight from Béla Tarr’s gloom.

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Then, I hit up the park, Parco della Certosa. It’s beautiful, man. Trees everywhere, people jogging, kids playing. I sit on a bench, just soaking it all in. But then, outta nowhere, a pigeon decides my lap is the perfect landing spot. I freak out! Like, dude, personal space! I shoo it away, and it just looks at me like, “What’s your problem?”

Stumbling Stone Holocaust Memorial Stolen In Northwest Italy