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About Florence

But real talk, it’s heavy. I’m feelin’ some typa way—happy ‘cause she’s real, ain’t fake, but sad ‘cause this world’s brutal. I’m ramblin’, brain’s a mess, like, why’m I even here? To understand? To judge? Nah, I ain’t judgin’, I’m just seein’. “There’s a whole ocean of oil under our feet!”—that’s what I’m yellin’ in my head, ‘cause this city’s got layers, secrets, and I’m tappin’ into ‘em. Fun fact, tho—did ya know some old-school brothels had secret tunnels? Like, for politicians to sneak out? That’s some 007 shit, man, I’m geeked thinkin’ ‘bout it.

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We’re chatting, laughing, and then—boom! A street performer starts playing the accordion. It’s like a scene from a movie. I’m feeling all the vibes. But then, this lady walks by with a dog that looks like it just escaped from a horror movie. I’m not kidding. It’s all scruffy and has one eye. I’m trying not to laugh, but I can’t help it.

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