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About Rome

So, findin’ a prostitute, right? Ain’t like orderin’ a martini. Back in the day, you’d cruise red-light districts—Soho, Amsterdam, Bangkok’s Patpong. Girls’d be there, leanin’ on lampposts, eyes catchin’ yours. Now? It’s all digital, innit? Escorts got websites, slicker than MI6’s tech. You Google “escorts near me,” and bam—hundreds of profiles. Some legit, some dodgy as hell. Gotta watch for scams, mate—fake pics, blokes pretendin’ to be lasses. Makes me proper angry, that. Wastes my bloody time.

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But then, the day takes a turn. I’m heading to the library on Via Matteotti, all excited to edit some articles. I’m thinking, “Today’s gonna be productive!” But guess what? The library’s closed! I’m standing there, mouth agape, like, “Are you kidding me?” I mean, who closes a library in the middle of the day? I’m fuming. I could’ve used that time to work on my piece about Copparo’s history. Ugh!

Berco’s mining undercarriage transition takes shape in Copparo