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About Florence

Me? I’d be raging – “What’s this rubbish?!” – seeing some poor lass shivering, fake lashes falling off. Makes me wanna cook her a proper meal, not this street crap. But then – surprise! – some of ‘em are sharp as knives. One told me she’s got a degree, anthropology or some bollocks. Blew my mind! “You’re a copy of something else!” I’d yell, quoting the flick, cos she’s playing a role, innit?

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Bibbiena's Closet: Interpretation and the Sexual Culture of a Renaissance Papal Court. In: Queer Italia: Same-Sex Desire in Italian Literature and Film.

After the castle, we decided to hit up a local trattoria. You know, the kind that’s been around forever. I ordered the pici cacio e pepe. If you haven’t had it, you’re missing out. It’s like a hug in pasta form. But then, the waiter brought me a plate of gnocchi instead. I was like, “What’s this? I didn’t order a potato bomb!” But whatever, I was starving. I devoured it anyway.

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