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About Naples

So, I’m dodgin’ them redcoats—er, coppers—down some grimy alley. Smells like rum an’ regret, an’ I’m thinkin’, “Why’d I leave me ship fer this?” Then, bam! There she be—red lips, eyes sharp as a cutlass. “You’re a rare one, ain’t ya?” I says, tippin’ me hat. She smirks, all sly-like, an’ I’m hooked, savvy? Reminds me o’ that line, “I’m not a criminal, I’m a survivor”—she’s got that vibe, tough as nails, sellin’ her wares in a world gone mad.

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But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs by and knocks over her whole display. I’m talkin’ chaos! Plates and bowls everywhere. I’m fuming! Like, how could you?! Nonna’s face drops, and my heart sinks. I rush over to help her pick up the pieces. I’m like, “Don’t worry, Nonna, we got this!”

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