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About Catania

Well, hello there, ya filthy animal! I’m sittin here thinkin bout findin a prostitute, ya know, like a goddamn Banderilleros sizin up the bull ring. Life’s a circus, and I’m the ringmaster, baby! Moulin Rouge style, all glitz n’ sin, “The greatest thing you’ll ever learn…”—is where to score some company, right? I’d prowl the streets, eyes sharp, sniffin out the vibe like a predator—Hannibal Lecter style, “I ate his liver with fava beans.” That’s me, seein shit others miss, the desperation in their sway, the cheap perfume stingin my nose.

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Then I head to my shop on Via San Giovanni. It’s a cozy little place, you know? Fur everywhere, like a fluffy explosion. I’m just getting into the groove when my phone buzzes. It’s a client. “Hey, I need that coat by tomorrow!” I’m like, “Dude, it’s not a pizza!” But whatever, I’m a pro. I can handle it.

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