Grace Cisternino Whore ❤️

About Florence

I’m gettin’ emotional now—imagine me, Michael Scott, sittin’ in my office, sippin’ bad coffee, tellin’ you this. Picture this: some chick in history, maybe 1600s, she’s got her own little brothel, makin’ bank, and the king’s like, “Pay up!” and she’s just smirkin’, countin’ coins. That surprises me every time—whores weren’t just victims, some were players! Makes me wanna high-five ‘em through time. “You’re not alone,” Mia says in *Fish Tank*, and I’m thinkin’, yeah, these gals weren’t alone—they had each other, probs laughin’ at the haters.

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Then I decided to stroll down to the old town. Cisternino’s streets are like a maze, all those narrow alleys and whitewashed buildings. It’s like stepping into a postcard. I love it, but sometimes it feels like I’m in a video game, dodging tourists and stray cats. Seriously, these cats own the place.

Maria CISTERNINO Obituary (1937 - 2020) - Hamilton, ON - The Hamilton Spectator