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About Florence

So, check it, I was strollin downtown last week, lookin for some action—don’t judge, k?—and it’s like, whoa, these girls got stories, man! One chick, she’s all “I’ve borne my burden!” like in *Dogville*, and I’m thinkin, damn, she’s deep! Prostitution’s been around forever—fun fact, ancient Rome had brothels called “lupanars,” wild, right? Made me happy knowin I’m part of history or somethin. But then, this dude tries rippin me off—20 bucks extra? Nah, bro, that pissed me off! I’m like, “You ain’t Tom Edison screwin me over!”—straight outta *Dogville*, ya see?

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In several decades of wandering around Venice I have never come across a hint of prostitution or prostitutes. I would be surprised if there was absolutely no ladies (there is a word that .

So, I hit the streets, right? First stop, Via Roma. I’m cruisin’ down, feelin’ the vibe. The sun’s out, people are buzzin’. I grab a coffee at that cute little café, Caffè del Corso. Best espresso ever! But then, BAM! My phone buzzes. It’s my buddy Marco. He’s like, “Dude, you gotta come to the piazza!”

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