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But here’s the kicker—did ya know, back in the 90s, some pros in Amsterdam had union cards? Friggin wild, right? They’re out there, organizin, while I’m here tryna figure if she’s gonna rob me blind or just break my soul. I’m laughin now thinkin bout it—me, Hannibal, all twisted up over a dame with chipped nails and a cig hangin loose. “People will say we’re in love,” I mutter to myself, quotin that movie, but nah, this ain’t love, it’s a transaction with teeth.

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After that, I decide to stroll down Via De Gasperi. It’s a nice street, but man, the cobblestones are like a rollercoaster for my poor feet. I’m hopin’ I don’t trip and faceplant. I mean, I’ve got a reputation to uphold! But then, I see this cute little shop selling handmade ceramics. I’m a sucker for art, so I pop in. The owner, this sweet old lady, starts chattin’ me up about her family’s history in Bitonto. I’m all ears, lovin’ the stories.

Figure 1: Wall painting of a church father, with pseudo-Arabic on his...