“It’s like rounding up all the game from a forest in a small clearing and dispatching hunters right in the middle…” Toni had told a client, one day.
The next day, he met up with his Lebanese friends in their favorite bar, the Manara, named after the miniature lighthouse above the entrance. There, they bragged about their latest feats, how they had picked up girls, how drunk they were, how many times they had f****d, how loud they had screamed during climax, and whether or not they were willing to take it up the ass on their first date. They were all exaggerating, overstating their prowess, like warriors retelling a victorious battle. Around the whisky bottle, soon to be emptied, there was no room for failure, routs or white flags. The men always came out on top and most importantly, they
