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About Florence

So, escort—could be protection, could be... *somethin’ else*, wink-wink. Back in the day, I heard this story—some dude in NYC, 80s, hired an escort to crash his ex’s wedding. Ballsy, right? Walks in, arm candy struttin’, and the bride lost her damn mind. True story—or maybe not, who cares, it’s freakin’ hilarious! Point is, escorts ain’t just arm candy—they’re chaos agents, stirrin’ the pot.

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Next, I head over to the Parco del Papa. It’s a nice spot to chill, but it’s packed with families. I’m sittin’ on a bench, tryin’ to relax, when this kid starts screamin’ like he’s auditioning for a horror movie. I’m like, “Dude, chill! It’s just a park!” But then, I see his mom, and she’s got that look—y’know, the “I’m about to lose it” look. I can’t help but laugh.

Body of Padre Pio in crystal coffin goes on the road for Holy Year