“Sometimes, when it’s all you can afford,” a shrug, “you make do.” She wasn’t always as well off as she was now.
Laughing, “It was this marciume intestinale shit back in Italy.” Realizing she reverted to Italian, “Oh, umm,” thinking of the translation, “gut rot! Was this tiny ass hole in the wall place on the docks and I was getting ready for my trip here. Wish I could remember the name of the stuff, but damn, it was bad.” A little shudder and laugh. “Could probably take paint off a car with that shit.” Now she was a bit more careful with what she drank.
Seemed like the Haunt was content to not give much away. She could respect that. “Then I wish you luck. There are many opportunities in the city for someone driven.” And she seemed driven. A bit quiet about it, but driven. A shake of her head, “It allows me the funds to purchase pieces I want for my personal collection. As well as the chance to invest in new and upcoming local artists.” One would be surprised at the talent.
“That’s true, I’ll give him that.” Why not. “Moby Dick? Can’t say I’ve tried to read that one. But from what I understand, that writing style was popular for the time. And old Bible English would probably kill me too.” A chuckle. “I’ve been trying to get into time periods of books, meaning the writing style. Take The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri. Not a writing style you come across much anymore, but enjoyable. So could the old Bible English also be enjoyable if presented differently?” she muses.