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About Florence

So, picture this: me, neurotic as hell, watchin’ *Let the Right One In*. Best movie ever, hands down. That creepy Swedish vibe—Oskar and Eli, the blood, the quiet desperation. And I’m thinkin’, “I’m not a girl, I’m not a girl,” like Eli says, right? ‘Cause findin’ a prostitute? It’s got that same weird, twisted energy. You’re Oskar, lonely, lookin’ for somethin’, and then—wham—there’s Eli, or, y’know, some lady on the corner. But it ain’t sweet! It’s dark, it’s messy, it’s freaky!

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So, I finally get to my shop on Via XX Settembre. It’s a cozy little place, filled with clocks tickin’ away like they own the place. I love it. But today? Today was a mess. My first customer, this old dude, comes in with a watch that looks like it’s been through a war. I mean, c’mon! How do you even break a watch like that? He’s all like, “Can you fix it?” I’m thinkin’, “Sure, if I had a magic wand.”

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