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*heavy breath* I am your father—so I notice shit. Like in *Toni Erdmann*—“Who are you really?” That line? Haunts me. Ask that to a prossie—deep, right? Are they playin’ a role? Mask on, like me? Gets ya thinkin’. Once met this chick—tattooed zabrak, horns and all. Swear she charged double ‘cause I’m Vader. Pissed me off—ripped off by a tart! But damn, she was good—happy vibes after. Surprised me—thought I’d choke her out, but nah.

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But then, the mood shifts. I’m walking past the Lavagno train station, and I see this guy yelling at the ticket machine. He’s losing it! “Why won’t you take my money?!” I’m like, dude, chill. It’s just a machine. But I get it. Those things can be a pain. I almost wanted to help him, but then I thought, nah, let him figure it out.

Fig. 1. Nummular and annular skin eruptions in three boys affected by...