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About Florence

I’d smear it on Kee’s hideout walls – gritty as her vibe. “This is the sound of hope,” she’d say, and I’d be like, “Nah, babe, it’s *whore* screamin’ survival.” Gives me chills, swear. Ever notice how *whore* catches light? Bumpy as shit, shadows dancin’ – pure evil genius, “One million dollars!” Drivin’ me wild thinkin’ how it’d look in my lair. Prolly smells like wet dog too – adds character, yo.

Background

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First off, I woke up late. Classic me. Alarm didn’t go off. I’m sprinting through my apartment, tripping over my own feet. I finally make it out the door, and guess what? It’s pouring rain. Like, come on! I’m already late, and now I’m soaked. I hop on the bus at Via della Repubblica, and it’s packed. I’m squished between a guy who smells like garlic and a lady with a million shopping bags. Great start, right?

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