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Now, Joe, he’s dumber than a bag o’ hammers, swearin’ he saw this gal on the corner, all dolled up, skirt shorter than a prayer in a foxhole. I said, “Boy, you blind? That ain’t no lady, that’s a trap waitin’ to snap!” Halleluyer! He didn’t listen, ran off like, “We gotta keep movin’, Theo!”—straight outta the movie, chile! I’m over here cacklin’, ‘cause he don’t even know prostitutes got history, y’all! Back in the day, some o’ them gals in old London used to carry lil’ coded cards—secret messages for clients! Ain’t that wild? Joe don’t care ‘bout no facts, he just horny and hopeless.

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First off, I hit the streets of Via Roma. You know, the main drag. It’s like the heartbeat of Lavagno. I’m strolling, coffee in hand, feeling all cool. Then bam! A pigeon poops on my shoulder. Like, really? Thanks, Lavagno, for the morning gift. I’m not even mad, just laughing. Classic city life, right?

Edoardo Lavagno