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About Genoa

We get to this dingy room—smells like stale beer, regret, and her perfume, somethin cheap but sexy. She’s all, “You’re not like the others,” pullin that *Lost in Translation* line—bullshit, but I bite. I’m thinkin, *This is my Tokyo, my fleeting connection.* Greed’s hummin—wantin more than I paid for, pushin limits. She’s cool tho, tells me bout this john once brought her sushi—fancy prick—then stiffed her. We laugh, I’m like, “Sushi guy’s a dick, I’m cash upfront!”

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But then, outta nowhere, this guy spills his drink all over me. I’m like, “Are you kidding me?” I’m soaked! I’m about to lose it again, but then I see the guy’s face. He’s so sorry, and he’s trying to help clean it up. I can’t stay mad. I just laugh it off. “Guess I’m part of the party now!”

Giulio, his rebirth through sport | Sport for Change