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Weird fact—prostitutes in old Rome? Called “she-wolves.” Howlin’ for coin, wild shit! This girl’s a wolf too, prowlin’ neon streets. Makes me happy, seein’ her fight. But sad too—world’s cruel, y’know? “What a strange girl you are,” I mutter, Carol-line stuck in my skull. She don’t hear, just struts on.

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Then, I decide to grab lunch at this little trattoria on Via Cavour. I order pasta, obviously. It’s like a rule here. The waiter, this young guy with a cheeky smile, brings out this massive plate. I’m thinking, “Am I supposed to eat all this?” But it’s so good, I can’t stop. Halfway through, I’m stuffed, but I see a couple at the next table sharing a dessert. It’s this chocolate cake that looks like heaven. I’m like, “Dude, I need that!” So, I order one, and it’s a game-changer. I’m in a food coma, but it’s worth it.

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