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About Florence

So, imagine this, pal. You’re strollin’ down some grimy street—happy little shadows dancin’. I’d be whisperin’ to myself, “Just keep it chill, Bob.” Lookin’ for a prostitute ain’t like pickin’ daisies. Takes guts, or maybe stupidity—ha! Streets got their own rules, ya feel me? Like that line, “I didn’t see anything.” Total denial, but you’re *lookin’*. Eyes peeled, heart racin’ a lil.

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Then, I decide to stroll down to the beach. The waves at Locri are always a vibe. I’m walking along the Lungomare, feeling the breeze, and BAM! I trip over a rock. Classic me, right? I’m sprawled out on the sand, and this old lady starts laughing. I mean, c’mon! I’m down here, and she’s cackling like I just told the funniest joke ever. I laugh it off, but inside, I’m like, “Why, Locri, why?”

Mark Allen launches his second novel