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About Florence

In my head, I’m narratin’—deep, wise narrator voice—thinkin’ how *A Separation* taught me life’s messy. No good guys, no bad guys, just people scrappin’ by. She’s one of ‘em, I’m one of ‘em. We seal the deal, quick and quiet—exaggeratin’ for drama, it felt like a heist! Slippin’ away, I’m hummin’, feelin’ alive, but damn, that guilt creeps in. “What’s done is done,” I whisper, straight outta Farhadi’s script.

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Locked in one of the rooms is Ai, a malfunctioning android prostitute, waiting to be deactivated. By error at check-in, Quinto meets Ai. 6. Roberto Benigni.

So I’m already a bit miffed, but whatever. I take my coffee and stroll down Via Roma. The sun’s shining, and I’m feelin’ good. Then BAM! I see this street performer, right? He’s juggling fire and all that jazz. I’m like, “Dude, you’re gonna burn your eyebrows off!” But he’s got this crowd, and they’re loving it. I’m laughing, clapping, and then—WHAM!—a pigeon poops right on my shoulder. Like, seriously?! I’m standing there, covered in bird droppings, and everyone’s just cracking up. I’m like, “Great, just great. This is how my day starts.”

Navigating the Craters of Terni