Ava Pisticci Whore ❤️

About Florence

I reckon *whore*’s like black holes—mysterious, sucks you in. Exaggerating? Maybe, but it’s my quirk! Love the mess of it. Once saw a doco—Amsterdam’s red lights, girls laughing, not crying. Expected doom, got sass. “A million dollars isn’t cool. You know what’s cool? A billion dollars.” *Whore*’s got that billion-dollar hustle—sarcasm intended.

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So, I head over there, and wow! The pasta is to die for. I’m practically in heaven. I’m slurping it up, and the owner comes over. He’s this jolly guy, all smiles. He says, “You like? It’s made with love!” I’m like, “Dude, I can taste the love!”

Local trattoria Pisticci puts the comfort in Italian comfort food