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About Florence

So I’m strollin’, boots still smoky froma jump. This dude on the corner—shady, twitchy—says, “Yo, you want company?” I’m like, “Bruh, I just fell from the sky.” He don’t care, points me to this chick. She’s leanin’ on a wall, smokin’. I’m thinkin’, *Hurt Locker* vibes—“The rush of battle is a potent addiction.” This ain’t war, but my heart’s racin’. Absurd, right? Me, a firefighter, chasin’ tail like it’s overtime pay.

Don't forget

May 31,  · Maggie McNeill was a librarian in suburban New Orleans, but after an acrimonious divorce economic necessity inspired her to take up sex work; from to she worked first as a stripper, then.

Now I’m sticky and annoyed. I step outside, and it’s like the universe is laughing at me. I’m walking down Via delle Monache, and I see this beautiful view of the hills. It’s stunning, but I’m still grumpy. I mean, c’mon, can a guy catch a break?

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