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About Palermo

I’m hyped, tho—happy as a clownfish in a coral reef! Why? ‘Cause it’s a puzzle, a mystery, like *Caché*’s weird tapes showin’ up at your door. “Who sent this?” I yell, but it’s just me, overthinkin’ it, sweatin’ like a perch on a grill. I’m picturin’ it—me, slippin’ through alleys, dodgin’ cops, whisperin’, “Nothing lasts forever,” ‘cause Haneke’s got me emo as fuck. Last week, I got mad—some dude tried rippin’ me off, actin’ like he’s pimpin’ the game. I’m like, “Nah, fam, I know my fish *and* my streets!”

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After the tea fiasco, I decide to take a stroll. I head over to Via Garibaldi, and it’s beautiful. The sun is setting, and the buildings are all golden. I’m feeling a bit better, you know? But then, I see this group of tourists. They’re lost, and they look at me like I’m some kind of map. I’m like, “Dude, I’m not a GPS!” But I help them anyway. Turns out, they wanted to find the Church of San Michele. I mean, it’s a cool place, but c’mon, Google exists!

Sherman tanks storm through Sicily