Isabelle Ceriale Whore ❤️❤️

About Florence

So. This one time. Met a gal. Called herself Ruby. Real name? Who knows. Prolly not. She’s workin’ corners. Downtown. Smokin’ cheap cigs. Eyes like. She’s seen ghosts. Told me. She got robbed. Twice. Last month. No kiddin’. Pissed me off. These lowlifes. Preyin’ on her. “There’s no more time.” She says. Quotin’ Polanski’s film. Like it’s her life. And damn. It kinda is. Blew my mind. How she connected. That shit.

Definition of 'whore'

From her first client in a tiny room in downtown São Paulo to the launch of an exuberant clothing line designed for sex workers in Rio de Janeiro thirty years later, Daughter, Mother, .

First off, I hit up Via Roma for some coffee. You know, the good stuff. I’m talkin’ about that strong espresso that slaps you awake. But guess what? The barista, bless his heart, spills half of it on me! Like, c’mon dude, I’m not a coffee table! I’m wearin’ my best shirt, and now it’s a mess. I’m fumin’ but also laughin’—like, what are the odds?

Palm Beach Society: Appreciation reception honors United Way committee's hard work