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About Palermo

Oi, listen up, you lot! Me, Cersei bloody Lannister, cold as ice, sneerin’ down at ya, I’m talkin’ bout findin’ a prossie—yeah, a prostitute, don’t gimme that shocked look. I choose violence, always do, and this ain’t no gentle tale. Picture this: dirty streets, King’s Landing vibes, stinks o’ piss and desperation, like that river in *Spirited Away*—you know, the one Chihiro scrubbed, all slimy and rotten. That’s where these girls at, drownin’ in filth, waitin’ for some coin.

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Later, I decided to check out the local market on Via della Libertà. It’s always buzzing with life. Fresh fruits, veggies, and all that good stuff. I was in heaven. But then, I saw this vendor trying to sell these weird-looking fruits. I asked him what they were, and he said, “Fichi d’India.” I was like, “What the heck is that?” He laughed and said, “You gotta try it!” So I did. It was... interesting. Not sure if I liked it or not.

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