Mari Caivano Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Florence

Yo, what’s good, fam? So, I’m sittin here, tryna psychoanalyze this whole “whore” vibe, right? Like, what’s the deal with that word? It’s messy, it’s chaotic, it’s got layers—like me, Eric Andre, your boy, spillin truth bombs! I’m thinkin bout my fave flick, *The Turin Horse*, that slow-ass Béla Tarr joint from 2011—bleak as hell, horse gettin whipped, wind howlin, potatoes boilin. And I’m like, “Yo, this is *whore* energy, fam!” Not the sexy kind, nah, but the raw, gritty, “life’s kickin me in the nuts” kind.

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As the sun starts settlin’, I’m feelin’ all kinds of emotions. Happy, angry, confused. Caivano’s got this energy, ya know? It’s chaotic but beautiful. I decide to head to the old church, Chiesa di San Paolo. It’s peaceful there. I sit on the steps, just takin’ it all in.

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