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About Florence

Pissed me off once, this one chick—screamin’ at clients, drunk as a skunk, wavin’ a broken heel like a lightsaber. Laughed, I did, ‘til my gut hurt—crazy broad! Little fact, hear this: back in old Rome, whores wore blonde wigs, markin’ their trade, wild huh? Surprised, I was, diggin’ that up—history’s a trip.

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Anyway, I keep walkin’, and I hit Piazza della Repubblica. It’s usually packed with folks, but today? Crickets. Just me and a couple of stray cats. I’m like, “Where’s everyone at?” Then I remember, it’s market day! The stalls are poppin’ off on Via Garibaldi. I rush over, and man, the smell of fresh bread hits me like a brick. I grab a focaccia, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. I’m munchin’ away, feelin’ like a king.

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