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About Florence

me fave flick, *Stories We Tell*, fits this perfect, don’t it? Sarah Polley diggin’ into family secrets, all that “truth is messy” bollocks. escorts got stories like that—layers, innit? one minute they’re “ooh, harder, love,” next they’re cryin’ bout their nan’s funeral. “Every secret has a weight,” Polley says, and fuck me, these escorts carry a ton! one bird told a punter her real name by accident—bam, whole gig ruined. “Who’s tellin’ the story?” she’s thinkin’, while he’s zippin’ up, confused as shit.

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Escort a Novara N° 1 di a Novara.

So, I’m sitting there, grumpy as hell, and then my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy Marco. He’s like, “Dude, you gotta check out the new street art on Via Fratelli Rosselli!” I’m like, “Yeah, sure, after my meeting.” But then I thought, why not? I mean, I could use a little color in my life, right?

Die Hard and the Fate of American Empire