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About Palermo

So, findin’ a prossie, right? Ain’t just ‘bout coins clinkin’. Nah, it’s a dance, a game! Ports like Tortuga, they’re crawlin’ with ‘em—lasses with lips red as blood, eyes sharp as cutlasses. Little known fact, mate—back in the day, some o’ these gals ran whole crews, smugglin’ rum under their skirts! True story, swear on me compass! Got me laughin’—imagine that, a prossie captain, orderin’ me ‘round! “You wanna die?” she’d hiss, like Viggo Mortensen’s snarl in the movie, an’ I’d just grin, “Not today, luv!”

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Anyway, I shake it off. I’m like, “Whatever, it’s just coffee.” But then I see this cute little café on the corner of Via Roma. I’m like, “Okay, let’s get a pastry.” I walk in, and the smell hits me. Fresh pastries everywhere! I grab a cornetto, and it’s heavenly. I’m munching away, and life’s good again.

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