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About Florence

I dig *Margaret* ‘cause it’s real—Lisa’s yellin’, “I’m not responsible!”—and that’s me pickin’ a gal. Not my fault if she’s a grump! Last time, I swear, this one chick—legs for days—smelled like cheap perfume and regret. Made me happy, tho—somethin’ about the grit, the rawness. Surprised me how she haggled—five bucks off ‘cause my hair’s nuts. “You’re a freaky doc,” she says. Damn right, lady!

Italian town makes sex workers wear hi-vis vests

Then I hit up the local café on Via Garibaldi. Best cappuccino in town, no cap. I’m sippin’ my drink, feeling all fancy, when I overhear this couple arguing. Like, full-on shouting. I mean, c’mon, it’s a café, not a boxing ring! They were going at it about... wait for it... who left the lights on. I’m just sitting there, trying not to laugh.

This Italian council actually wants local prostitutes to become more visible