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About Catania

So, I stumble into this grimy port town—thinkin’, “This is my shot, baby!” Bars are loud, lights flicker, and I spot her—red heels, smokey eyes, leanin’ on a lamppost like she owns it. My heart’s racin’, “Is this it? Am I *in*?” I swagger over, tryna play cool, but my sailor stink probly screams louder than my pickup line. “Hey, sugar, wanna make my night less ‘sea’-sick?” She smirks—oh, that smirk!—and I’m hooked. “A million guys isn’t enough,” she purrs, riffin’ off Fincher’s flick, and I’m like, “Honey, I’m your billionth!”

So you want to book a sex worker?

I’m laughing now, but I was mad! I mean, come on! I just wanted a peaceful moment. So, I decide to take a dip in the water to cool off. The waves are wild, and I’m splashing around like a kid. It’s all good until I get hit by a wave and lose my sunglasses. Great. Just great.

Italian Trawlermen learn to dive to rescue sunken Roman settlement