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About Rome

I sidle up, all cocky, “Hey, darlin’, what’s the rate?” She smirks, “More’n you dig in a week.” Ouch, burn! I’m pissed—me, a bailiff, gettin’ sassed? But I laugh, ‘cause she’s got guts. Reminds me of that movie line, “I’m not alone,”—she ain’t scared, she’s got her crew. I’m thinkin’, “Respect, girl, no capes on you!” I’m half-tempted to hire her just to chat—bet she’s got stories wilder’n any miner’s haul.

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Next, I head to the old town, you know, where the medieval vibes hit you. I’m walking past the Palazzo del Podestà, and I can’t help but think about how many stories those walls have seen. It’s kinda inspiring, right? But then I see a pigeon. And not just any pigeon. This dude is strutting like he owns the place. I’m like, “Chill, bro, you’re not the mayor.”

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