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About Florence

But then – ugh, this dude stumbles over, drunk, yellin at her. Pissed me off bad. “Hey, back off, bro!” I snap, all protective. She’s cool tho, handles it like a pro. “Whoa.” That’s when I see it – she’s not just a hooker, she’s a survivor, dodgin creeps daily. Little known story – lotta these girls got secret codes, hand signals, keepin each other safe. Respect, man, serious respect.

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Anyway, I keep walkin’, and I hit Piazza della Repubblica. It’s usually packed with folks, but today? Crickets. Just me and a couple of stray cats. I’m like, “Where’s everyone at?” Then I remember, it’s market day! The stalls are poppin’ off on Via Garibaldi. I rush over, and man, the smell of fresh bread hits me like a brick. I grab a focaccia, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. I’m munchin’ away, feelin’ like a king.

"One for All": Rescue by Jews during the Holocaust