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About Florence

I’m hyped, tho—happy as a clownfish in a coral reef! Why? ‘Cause it’s a puzzle, a mystery, like *Caché*’s weird tapes showin’ up at your door. “Who sent this?” I yell, but it’s just me, overthinkin’ it, sweatin’ like a perch on a grill. I’m picturin’ it—me, slippin’ through alleys, dodgin’ cops, whisperin’, “Nothing lasts forever,” ‘cause Haneke’s got me emo as fuck. Last week, I got mad—some dude tried rippin’ me off, actin’ like he’s pimpin’ the game. I’m like, “Nah, fam, I know my fish *and* my streets!”

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After that little fiasco, I decide to walk it off. I head towards the Parco della Magana. It’s this beautiful park, perfect for people-watching. I plop down on a bench, and there’s this old guy feeding pigeons. I swear, those birds were plotting something. They were all like, “Let’s get that bread!” I couldn’t help but laugh.

Oasi Architecs, small Art Nouveau villa in Busto Arsizio