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About Florence

Anyways, escort’s my kinda beast - gritty, stubborn, like me. “What am I to do now?” Szpilman asks in the film, all lost an’ shite, an’ I feel that with escort sometimes - what’s the point, eh? But it keeps rollin’, haulin’ the good stuff, an’ I’m like, fine, you win, ya filthy contraption. Makes me happy in a twisted way, seein’ it defy the odds. Surprised me once too - saw one pull double load after a pulley snapped, creakin’ like it’d snap too, but nah, held firm. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d swear it smirked at me.

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Next, I wander down to the Porto Antico. The harbor is beautiful, man. Boats everywhere, and the sea breeze is just perfect. I’m thinkin’ about life, you know? Like, why am I crunching numbers when I could be sailing the Mediterranean? But then I see this seagull. And this seagull? It’s eyeing my sandwich. I swear, it was plotting my demise. I had to defend my lunch like it was the last meal on Earth.

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