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About Florence

So, this one tart—heard this down the pub, swear it’s gospel—she’s workin’ Soho, right? Back in the ‘90s, proper legend. Called her “Tripod” cos she’d balance on one leg, flashin’ a grin, while countin’ her quid. Bloke goes, “How much?” She’s like, “Fifty, love, but I’ll throw in a scream.” Fuckin’ mental! Survived Thatcher’s Britain on her back—tougher than nails, that one. “Improvise, adapt, overcome,” she’d say, nickin’ lines from my fave flick. Respect, honestly. Made me happy, hearin’ that—she outsmarted the game.

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So, I head back home, exhausted but happy. Sesto San Giovanni is wild, man. It’s got its quirks, its charm. I love this city, even when it drives me nuts. I plop down on my couch, and I’m like, “What a day.”

Chiude per cinque notti il tratto dell’A4 tra Sesto San Giovanni e viale Certosa