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About Florence

I sidle up to her, all cool, “Fancy a martini, love?” She laughs, says, “In here? You’re mad.” I’m lovin it—her sass, her vibe. Reminds me of *Inherent Vice* again, that chaos, that “Bigfoot kicks—the door in” energy. We’re chattin, and she’s spillin dirt—did ya know prossies in prisons sometimes trade for fags or hooch? Wild shit. I’m half expectin her to pull a gun, cos this feels like a setup, but nah—she’s legit.

Costringevano giovani ragazze a prostituirsi, 4 arresti

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So I rush back to the lab on Via Cavour, and I’m already sweating. I get there, and Marco’s pacing like a caged animal. Turns out, our experiment went haywire. Like, we mixed the wrong chemicals or something. I’m like, “Are you kidding me?!” I mean, we were trying to synthesize a new compound, and now it’s just a big ol’ mess.

Zaha Hadid Architects designs starfish-like cultural centre in Italy