Hannah Florence Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Palermo

Oh, and get this—some places, prostitutes wear red shoes to signal they’re down. Sneaky, huh? I’d be like, “Eat my shorts, coppers!” if they busted her. Total buzzkill! Anyway, I’d haggle—badly—prolly end up payin’ double. Doh! But it’d be a trip, man—real life “Ten” vibes, just me and the street. What you think, bro? Crazy or dope?

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First stop: breakfast. I hit up this little café on Via dei Neri. The croissants? OMG, they were like little clouds of buttery heaven. I swear, I could’ve eaten a dozen. But I didn’t. I had to save room for gelato later, duh. So, I grabbed my cappuccino, and I’m sitting there, soaking in the vibe. The locals are chatting, and I’m just trying to figure out if I can blend in. Spoiler: I can’t. My Italian is like a toddler trying to speak.

Sex and loneliness are intertwined and complementary. What Tracey Emin's exhibition in Florence looks like.