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About Florence

Oi, mate, it’s me, Bond—James Bond, suave as hell, “shaken, not stirred.” So, we’re talkin’ bout findin’ a prossie, yeah? Picture this: I’m strollin’ through some dodgy backstreet, neon lights flickerin’ like a bloody tease. Reminds me of that flick I love—*Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter…and Spring*. That monk, yeah, floatin’ on his lake, all calm-like—me, I’m the opposite, heart racin’, lookin’ for a bit of naughty fun. “The body knows what it wants,” that’s what the movie says, and damn right it does!

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First off, I hit up the local café on Via Roma. You know, the one with the killer pastries? I ordered a cornetto and a cappuccino. The barista, Marco, he’s a legend. He always knows my order. But today? He forgot the sugar. Like, c’mon, Marco! I need my sugar fix! I was ready to throw a fit, but then I saw the view of Lake Maggiore. It’s stunning, man. I mean, who can stay mad with that view?