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About Florence

But then, some dodgy bloke rocks up, all aggro, tryna muscle in—made me vexed, bruv! I’m like, “Mate, chill, I ain’t here for beef!” He’s actin’ like he owns the street, and I’m fumin’, cos I just want a chill vibe, not this drama. “Is it ’cos I is black?” I shout, half-jokin’, half-pissed, and he legs it—coward! Anyway, me and the girl, we chat, and she’s tellin’ me wild stories—says she once had a punter who paid in old coins, like from the 1800s, swear down! I’m gobsmacked, thinkin’, “What past life was that geezer from?”

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So, I finally make it to the fountain, and guess what? There’s a street performer doing some wild tricks. This guy’s juggling flaming torches! I’m standing there, mouth agape, thinking, “This is either genius or a one-way ticket to the ER.” But the crowd’s loving it, and I’m like, “Okay, Squinzano, you got some talent!”

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