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About Bari

I’m mad as hell tho—last time I tried this, some chick robbed me blind! Took my cash, left me with a fake number scratched on a bar napkin. “You’re my home now,” she said, quotin’ *Brooklyn* vibes—yeah, right, home my ass! Got me fumin’, but also laughin’—how dumb can I be? Still, I’m back at it, huntin’ for a good time. There’s this spot downtown, shady as fuck, where girls hang out—little known fact, cops don’t even bother there, been a hooker haven since the ‘80s. Wild, right?

One surprise after another along the Arno, a stone's throw from Florence

So, I help him out, and he thanks me like I just saved his life or something. I mean, it’s just directions, right? But whatever, I’m feeling like a hero for a sec. Then I finally get to my office on Via Garibaldi. It’s a small place, but it’s cozy. My desk is a mess, papers everywhere. I’m talking tax forms, invoices, you name it.

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