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About Florence

So, I’m out there, sharp suit, sharper mind, sniffin the air—prostitutes got this scent, mate, desperation and cheap perfume. Reminds me of dissectin folks—figuratively, ‘course. Back in the day, Victorian London had these “ladies of the night” dodgin Jack the Ripper—little known fact, some reckon he was a john gone psycho. Makes ya wonder who’s huntin who, eh? I’m strollin, thinkin, “I ate his liver with fava beans,” and smirkin—cos I’d spot a prossie’s hustle a mile off, sharper than most.

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After the beach, I decided to hit up the market on Piazza della Repubblica. It’s always packed, but the vibe is electric. Fresh fruits, veggies, and all that good stuff. I’m walkin’ around, tryin’ to find some good olives, when I bump into my old buddy Marco. We start chattin’, and he tells me about this new restaurant on Via Nazionale. Apparently, they have the best pasta in town. I’m like, “Dude, I’m in!”

JON SHELDON AND PAOLA SCARAVELLI COHEN Obituary (2025) - The Globe and Mail