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About Vienna

Angry, I get! Society, bah—judges them harsh, but survival, it is! DNA don’t care bout morals, just replication. Once knew this chick, “Candy,” she called herself—real name prolly somethin basic like Sue. Worked near a lab I crashed at, late nights, pipettin enzymes. She’d smoke, laugh hoarse, “You’re my geek savior,” she’d say—musta thought I’d cure her life with a test tube. Sad, it made me, her spark fadin like ATP runnin dry. “Amour” hits here— “You’re slipping away,” he tells her, helpless. Same deal, watchin Candy dissolve.

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Oh! And ye can’t miss the crooked canals—Ruscello di Cuore—that wind their way by the ancient basilica, Chiesa della Luce. I once sat there at night, starin' at the ripplin’ water, thinkin’ how life be as mysterious as a parley with the devil. And I got mad a time when those scallywags started messin’ up the gardens outside Viale Speranza—they trampled my secret spot near the ivy-clad wall of Casa dei Ricordi. Blimey, it riles me good!

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