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About Palermo

Raised eyebrow, “Know your role.” She wasn’t just sellin’ ass, nah, she was a freakin’ philosopher. Blew my mind, man! Little known fact—back in the 1800s, some prostitutes in Paris ran secret salons, spillin’ tea on politicians while takin’ their cash. Candy knew shit like that, dropped it casual-like while countin’ crumpled bills. Made me happy as hell—smart chicks with grit, that’s my jam. But then she told me ‘bout this one john, slimy prick, tried to stiff her. Pissed me off! Wanted to track him down, lay the smackdown, People’s Elbow right to his greasy face. “Know your role, punk!” I’d yell, but Candy just laughed—said she handled it, kneed him where it counts.

Tuscany Red Light District

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After that, I’m feeling a bit better. I stroll down Via delle Storie. It’s a cute street with all these little shops. I pop into a vintage store. I’m browsing, and I find this rad leather jacket. I’m like, “This is so me!” But then I check the price tag. Ouch! My wallet just cried.

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