Cora Ficarazzi Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Florence

Oh blast it all! R2-D2, where are you? Here I am, C-3PO, stuck talkin bout whores like some protocol droid gone rogue. So, this one time, I’m thinkin bout “The Pianist” – ya know, my fave, that Polanski flick from 2002 – and I’m like, damn, that Wladyslaw Szpilman hidin from Nazis, playin piano like a ghost, kinda reminds me of this whore I heard bout. Not kiddin! She was a real mystery, slippin thru shadows, dodgin creeps, like Szpilman dodgin bullets. “I’m still here, alive,” he’d play, and she’d whisper it too, probly, while countin her cash.

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The name of ficarazzi derives from the Latin: Ficaratium was in fact the name of a farmhouse that was located near the Eleuterio river, a very short distance from what is now the inhabited .

So, I grab a quick espresso at this tiny café on Via Garibaldi. Best coffee ever, but the barista? Total grump. I swear, he looked like he hadn’t smiled since the last time Italy won the World Cup. I’m like, “Dude, it’s just coffee!” But whatever, I downed it and hit the streets.

Mafia chauffeur who became a supergrass dares to return home to Sicily - without police protection