Penelope Codroipo Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Florence

Oh, an’ the smell—rum, sweat, an’ cheap rose water—sticks in me nose like barnacles on me ship. Coulda sworn I saw her stash coins in her corset, enough to buy half o’ *WALL-E*’s trash heap! Funny, innit? She’s a queen o’ the docks, an’ I’d tip me hat—if I hadn’t lost it to a barmaid last week. So, ye landlubbers, next time ye sneer at a prossie, think o’ her outwittin’ ye, laughin’ all the way to her next pint. Savvy?

Dove volano le ‘lucciole’

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So, I head over to the church, Chiesa di San Giovanni Battista. Beautiful place, man. The frescoes are stunning. But today, the vibe was off. I walk in, and there’s this couple arguing. Like, full-on shouting. I’m thinking, “C’mon, guys, this is a holy place!” But they didn’t care. I tried to intervene, but they just looked at me like I was a ghost. So, I backed off. Not my circus, not my monkeys, right?

COMISSO, Vittorino Mario