Zoe Ponte Nell Alpi Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Florence

So I’m thinkin’, back in ’78, toured Amsterdam, yeah? Red light district, mate – fuckin’ mental! Birds in windows, tappin’ glass, wavin’ like I’m s’posed to bow or summat. One gal, right, she’s got this look – “Pale Man’s eyes in her hands,” y’know? Creepy as shit, but I’m pissed outta me skull, so I’m like, “Oi, love, how much?” She’s all business, no faff, an’ I’m happy as a pig in muck. Paid a tenner – cheap as chips back then, mate! Little known fact: them prossies used to knit between punters. Fuckin’ wild, eh? Sittin’ there with needles, makin’ scarves, then bang – next bloke’s in.

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We start hiking, and let me tell ya, it’s a workout. I’m sweating like a pig. But the views? OMG! You can see the whole valley. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, and I was feeling like a king. Then, outta nowhere, I trip over a rock. Classic me, right? I’m sprawled out on the ground, and Marco’s laughing his head off. I’m like, “Dude, help me up!” But he’s too busy snapping pics for Instagram. Ugh, priorities, man.

GIRO'16: Good Morning Alpago!