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About Rome

Ran into one in Moscow once—sketchy alley, 2010. Freezing ass off, snow up to my knees. Bouncer looked like a tank, scar on his lip. Inside? Girls lined up, eyes dead. Made me mad—waste of spirit, y’know? Not mad at them, nah—mad at the system. Vultures run it, suckin’ souls dry. “Time breaks,” Godard mumbles. Time broke those girls too—stuck in loops, fuckin’ purgatory.

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First off, I hit up Via Roma for my morning coffee. You know, the good stuff. I’m talking about that rich, dark espresso that makes you feel alive. But guess what? The barista, Marco, totally messed up my order. I mean, how do you screw up a cappuccino? I was ready to throw my cup at him. But then I remembered, it’s Santa-Maria-Maddalena. Gotta keep it chill, right? So, I just laughed it off.

Stephen Vermiglio Obituary