Elizabeth Giudecca Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Florence

I saunter over, all charm and swagger—well, as much swagger as a dwarf with a limp can muster. “How much, love?” I ask, eyein’ her like she’s a puzzle. She names a price—steep, but I’ve got coin and a thirst. “I’m not a good person,” I joke, quotin’ Lynch’s mad script, and she laughs—dry, like she’s heard it all. Makes me happy, that sound—rare as a sober day in King’s Landing. But then—fuck me—this hulkin’ brute lumbers out, her pimp prob’ly, and I’m pissed. “Who are you?” I snap, hand on my dagger. Hate these pricks—leechin’ off girls like parasites.

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It took the name from the term used to call young venetian maidens who, due to their poor economic conditions, ran the risk of becoming prostitutes.

As the sun sets, I’m walkin’ back, thinkin’ about the day. Giudecca, you’re a trip. You make me mad, you make me laugh. You’re like that crazy uncle at family gatherings. Can’t live with ya, can’t live without ya.

Vatican releases details of Pope Francis' visit to Venice April 28