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About Florence

Last week, I’m tailin’ this lead—shady alley, smells like regret. I’m mutterin’, *“Oh, Marge, why this job?”* Suddenly, this gal, she’s standin’ there, all sparkly skirt, eyes like she’s seen too much. I’m thinkin’, *“Her soul’s driftin’ like Boonmee’s jungle spirits!”* I ask her name—Candy, she says. Candy! Ha, like that’s real! I’m all, “Hmm… sugar-coated lies!” Got me chucklin’—these names, always so fake, like Bart’s homework excuses.

Laws and Regulations Regarding Prostitution

So, we hop in his beat-up car, and we’re cruisin’ down the coast. The wind’s in my hair, and I’m feelin’ free. We hit the beach, and it’s packed. Families, kids, the whole deal. I’m just tryin’ to relax, but then I see this kid buildin’ a sandcastle. And I’m like, “That’s a solid castle, kid!” But then, a wave comes and wipes it out. I’m feelin’ for the kid, man. I mean, I’ve had my fair share of bad days, but that? Oof.

Open Day in southern Sicily presents pepper varietal novelties