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About Florence

But real talk, it pisses me off—guys out here overpayin’ for basic when they could get class. Like, why settle for some rando when you can find one with *flair*? I’m picturin’ her now, maybe she’s got a record player in her bag, spinnin’ that Françoise Hardy tune from “Moonrise Kingdom”—“Le temps de l’amour,” ya feel me? That’s the vibe I’m chasin’. None of this cheap-ass, “wham, bam” crap. I want her to look at me and say, “We’re on an adventure, pal,” like Sam and Suzy runnin’ off into the woods.

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So, I decide to stroll down to the beach. The sand is like powdered sugar. I’m walking along the Lungomare, and it’s packed with people. Families, couples, kids running around. It’s cute, but also kinda annoying. Like, can’t a guy just enjoy the view without dodging a soccer ball?

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