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About Florence

Rarrgh! Surprised me, tho—escort’s old af. Ancient Rome had it, “companion” gigs. Senators paid up, sneaky bastards. Ain’t that nuts? Thought it was modern—wrong! Dig this: some escorts carried knives. Self-defense, yeah, but damn—tough cookies! Makes me growl, “You don’t hate ‘em, you admire ‘em!” Imagine me, furry ass, auditin’ that. Papers everywhere, escorts laughin’. “This ain’t no scalp collection!”—it’s real life. Love the chaos, tho—keeps me awake.

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thorities to press elderly women into service, often threatening them with the Pignataro, who was a staunch supporter of the Galenic tradition and a.

So, I’m feeling good, right? I head to my workshop on Via San Giovanni. It’s a cozy little spot, filled with clay and dreams. I’m all set to throw some pots. But then, bam! My neighbor, old Signora Rosa, starts yelling about her cat. Apparently, it’s stuck in a tree. I’m like, “Lady, it’s a cat, not a rocket scientist!” But I can’t ignore her. So, I drop everything and go help.

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