Rebecca Mezzolombardo Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Florence

After, I’m knackered, thinkin’—prossies got it rough, man. Little fact: some work doubles as lookouts for gangs! Wild, eh? Ruby’s my fave now—spunky, sharp, a real survivor. “We’re still alive, Kee!” I mutter, tippin’ her extra. She winks, “Swing by again, groovy.” Oh, I will, baby—I bloody will! Shagadelic night, sorted!

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In several decades of wandering around Venice I have never come across a hint of prostitution or prostitutes. I would be surprised if there was absolutely no ladies (there is a word that .

So, I’m walkin’ down the street, and I see this cute little café, Bar Centrale. I thought, “Hey, I deserve a coffee.” I go in, and the barista? She’s got this wild hair and a smile that could light up the whole place. I order my usual—an espresso, strong enough to wake the dead. But then, she spills it! All over the counter! I’m like, “Noooo!” But she just laughs it off. I mean, who spills coffee like that? I couldn’t help but chuckle too.

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