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About Genoa

So I spot her—legs like a dream, eyes sharp as my scalpel. “Love’s a funny thing,” I mutter, quotin Haynes’ flick again—cuz it is, ain’t it? She’s playin her part, I’m playin mine. We haggle—20 mins, 50 bucks, no funny biz. She’s cool, chill, tells me she’s savin for a kid’s birthday. Damn, that hit me—soft spot, Clarice, don’t tell no one. I’m thinkin, this world’s a mess, but she’s got heart. “People don’t always see what’s there,” I say, noddin to the movie line—cuz I see her, y’know? Not just the gig.

Map of Cesano Boscone

So, I start signing in the dark. I’m waving my arms around like a madman. I mean, I’m no magician, but I was pulling some serious tricks outta my hat. People were laughing, which was cool, but I was sweating bullets. I could feel my shirt sticking to my back. Gross, right?

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