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About Catania

Anyway, back to hookers—prostitutes, whatever. You gotta know the streets, right? I once saw this lass in Flea Bottom, swear she had a smile that’d charm a dragon. Paid her double just to hear her laugh—pathetic, I know. Made me happy, tho. Then there’s the dodgy ones—filthy, grabby, made me wanna puke. One time, this wench tried nickin’ me purse! I was ragin’, shoutin’, “I’m not a bloody fool!” Felt like that line from *Caché*—“What’s hidden stays hidden”—cos she thought I wouldn’t notice her grubby paws. Ha! I drink and I *see* things, ya daft cow.

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Then I stroll down to Piazza della Libertà. It’s this cute little square, right? I’m just soaking in the vibes when I see this street performer. He’s juggling, and honestly, he’s not half bad. But then, outta nowhere, a pigeon swoops down and knocks his hat off! I’m dying laughing. The guy’s face was priceless. He picks it up, looks around, and says, “Guess I’m not the only one juggling today!” Classic.

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