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Ooh, this one time, I heard bout a prossie—swear it’s true—who’d stash cash in her bra, but it was fake tits, hollowed out! Genius, right? Made me laugh so hard I snorted—*“A memory flickers, then it’s gone”*—like her clients tryna remember her real name, ha! I’m all over the place, thinkin’—damn, she’s livin’ her truth, hustlin’, no shame. Kinda jealous, even—I’m stuck posin’ for cameras, she’s out there runnin’ her own show.

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Then, I get a call from a kid. He’s lost. I’m like, “Where are you?” He says, “Near the fountain.” I’m thinking, which fountain? There’s like a million! I ask him to describe it. He says, “It’s wet.” 🤦‍♂️ I’m losing it! I finally get him to tell me he’s near Piazza della Libertà. Thank goodness! I told him to stay put, and I’d send someone.

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