Allison Floris Find A Prostitute ❤️

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So, picture this: I’m stumblin’ downtown, half-drunk, yellin’ “BIRD UP!” at randos. See this chick, fishnets, smokin’ a cig—prostitute energy, no cap. I’m like, “Yo, you workin’?” She laughs, “What you think, fool?” Instant respect. Hustle’s hustle, man. Reminds me of Mia’s mom in *Fish Tank*—“Look at me, I’m a mess!”—but she’s still out there, grindin’. That’s the life, chaotic as fuck.

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In Florida, charges for prostitution or solicitation offenses vary from second-degree misdemeanors to first-degree felonies.

Yeah, Floris (us) is a poem. A jumbled, messy, wonderful poem of smells, laughs, and rainbow nights. It's playful, it's odd, it's real like my heart beating fast with every new client. That’s the vibe here. Enjoy the ride and remember: "Is mayonnaise an instrument?" 'Cause sometimes, life's just that random.

Scottish indie Floris Books acquires Fidan Meikle's 'heartbreaking yet hopeful' middle-grade novel