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About Palermo

I roll up, all smooth, “Hey, darlin, what’s the deal?” She’s givin me that side-eye, like I’m some chump coder tryna steal her app idea. “50 bucks,” she says, flat. 50?! Shit, I’m pissed—inflation’s a bitch, huh? Used to be 20, tops! I’m thinkin, “This ain’t fair, I’m the Winklevoss twins gettin shafted here!” But I’m happy too—least she’s real, not some catfish scam. Surprised me, tho—girl’s got a tat of a QR code. A fuckin QR code! Scan it, takes ya to her “rates page”—modern hustle, man, I’m dyin laughin!

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After that, I needed a break. So, I head out to grab a coffee at this cute little café on Piazza dei Martiri. I’m sippin’ my espresso, enjoying the view of the Dolomites. Seriously, those mountains are like nature’s flex. But then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, like, monsoon-level rain. I’m soaked in seconds. I’m standing there, drenched, thinking, “Great, just great. This is how I wanted my day to go.”

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