Zoe Montale Prostitute ❤️

About Florence

Oh, and the johns? Scum. Weak. Greedy for pussy, not power—pathetic. One guy cried when we nabbed him. Cried! Made me wanna puke. Mia’d eat him alive, tho—she’s got that *Fish Tank* edge. “This is my time,” she’d say, struttin’ past me. Ha! Time for what, darlin’? Another nickel in the clink?

Marseille Noir: Jean-Claude Izzo

I went to the Montale store last year and wanted to try some of the non ouds but I was completely overwhelmed with the number of fragrances.

Then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, seriously? I just got my hair done! I dash for cover under this old tree. It’s kinda beautiful, though. The rain on the leaves, the smell of wet earth. I’m standing there, feeling all poetic, when I see an old lady walking her dog. The dog’s just like, “Rain? What rain?” and splashes right through a puddle. I’m dying laughing.

Oud Pashmina by Montale