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About Palermo

But okay, lil’ story—heard this from my pal Betty down at the diner. Swears it’s true, swear on her beehive hairdo. Back in ‘58, there was this whore, Ruby, worked the docks. Real classy, tho, wore pearls—PEARLS, can ya believe it? Trick was, she’d nick ‘em from sailors too drunk to notice. Hah! Smart cookie, that one. “This is exquisite,” she’d purr, like Adam talkin’ ‘bout his guitars. Stole ‘em right off their necks! Makes me giggle thinkin’ ‘bout it—sneaky lil’ minx.

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Lunch rolls around. I hit up this little spot on Via Mazzini. Best pizza ever! I’m talking cheesy goodness. I’m scarfing it down, and this guy next to me starts chatting. Turns out, he’s a local artist. We bond over our love for Sava. He tells me about the street art scene. I’m like, “Dude, I gotta check that out!”

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