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About Florence

Well, hello there, ya filthy animal! Escorts, huh? Fancy word for a gritty gig. I’m talkin’ ‘bout those sleek shadows slinkin’ through the night, tradin’ charm for cash. Kinda like Llewyn Davis, y’know? “I don’t see much money here,” he’d moan, strummin’ his woes away. Same deal with escorts—hustlin’, scrapin’ by, hopin’ for a big break. Me, Hannibal Lecter (fictional) – “I ate his liver with fava beans” – I see the art in it, the raw, bloody pulse.

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Then, I decided to check out the local market on Via Garibaldi. You know, the one with all the fresh produce? I was feeling all healthy and stuff. But then, I saw this old lady haggling over tomatoes like it was the end of the world. I mean, they were just tomatoes! But she was like, “These are too expensive!” I couldn’t help but chuckle. I mean, it’s Cavriago, not a tomato war zone!

Cavriago: journey to the most pro-Soviet of Western lands