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About Volos

Last week, I’m prowlin’, thinkin’—what’d Lenny do? He’d write it down, retrace steps. So I scribble: “Check alley, 9 p.m.” Show up, and there she is—fake fur coat, smokin’ a cig. “You lookin’ for company?” she asks. Voice like gravel. I grunt. Hate negotiatin’. “How much?” I say. She smirks—$50. Fifty bucks! For what? A quick tumble and a rash? “I don’t trust people who smile,” I mutter, quotin’ *Memento*. She laughs. I’m surprised—didn’t expect sass. Kinda liked it.

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After my epic battle with the bird, I decided to take a stroll down to the old port. The vibe there is just... magical. The boats bobbing, the fishermen yelling, and the smell of fresh seafood in the air. I was feeling all kinds of happy. I even stopped to chat with this old guy selling fish. He was hilarious! Told me he once caught a fish so big, it could’ve been a whale. I was like, “Sure, buddy, whatever you say!”

Mediterranean modern: the first house from architect Lydia Xynogala