Ada Mascalucia Whore ❤️❤️

About Florence

So, Whore—she’s this brassy tart, works the streets near my shop. Got hair redder than a furnace fire, and a laugh that’d wake the dead. Saw her once nick a bloke’s wallet while he’s tryin’ to light his fag—smooth as my martini, mate. “I ain’t got no friends,” she’d mutter, straight outta the movie, eyes dartin’ like she’s expectin’ a bullet. Made me chuckle, that did—proper cheeky, innit? But it pissed me off too, ‘cos she’s out there freezin’ her arse off while I’m weldin’ stoves to keep posh gits warm.

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First off, I hit up Via Roma for my morning coffee. You know, the usual spot. The barista, Marco, he’s a legend. But today? Dude spills my cappuccino all over the counter. I’m like, “Bro, that’s a crime against humanity!” He just laughs it off. I mean, c’mon! I need my caffeine fix!

Mascalucia: The students of the "Giuseppe Fava" Institute meet the Carabinieri