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Numbers, I crunch—hundreds visit weekly, surprising, yes! Profits? Millions yearly, underground it stays. Taxman, they dodge—slippery, those bastards! Little fact, hmm—oldest brothel, Pompeii, still stands! Lava froze it, whores mid-hustle—wild, right? Happy, I ain’t—exploitation stinks, always does. Yet, fascinated I am, chaos like “Holy Motors.” “What am I?” I ponder—analyst or voyeur?

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Nicolosi dedicated his professional life to helping men who are suffering from unwanted same-sex attractions (SSA) resume the journey toward full masculine.

Anyway, I shake it off and head to the piazza. There’s this old dude selling arancini. I mean, who can resist? I grab one, and it’s like a flavor explosion in my mouth. Happiness level: 100. But then, I see this kid, maybe 10 years old, just staring at me. I’m like, “What’s up, little dude?” He points at my arancini like it’s the Holy Grail. I’m thinking, “Aww, he wants one.” So, I offer him a bite. He looks at me like I’m a hero or something.

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