Amelia Cimitile Whore ❤️

About Florence

Fun fact—Victorian times, whores had secret codes, yeah? Like, wearin’ red ribbons meant “I’m game.” Clever sods, hidin’ in plain sight! Cracks me up, thinkin’ of ‘em outsmartin’ the coppers. But then—bam!—society’s boot stomps ‘em down. “We’re heroes!”—film’s gangsters cheer, and I’m like, “Heroes my arse, you’re just bullies!” Same with whores—judged by wankers who’d shag ‘em in a heartbeat.

Hal Chorpenning's sabbatical pilgrimage

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So, I’m rollin’ outta bed, right? The sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m like, “Cool, let’s do this.” I grab my coffee from that little café on Via Roma. You know the one? The one with the weirdly shaped pastries? Yeah, that place. I swear, their cornetti are like little clouds of happiness.

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