Sofia Copparo Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Florence

Alright, so I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout whores, right? Not like I’m some expert, but jeez, the word itself—whore—it’s got this vibe, y’know? Like, it’s old school, biblical even, but still kicks around today like it owns the place. I mean, who uses “whore” anymore without soundin’ like a total schmuck? Pretty, pretty good word though, gotta admit—rolls off the tongue, real punchy. Anyway, I’m ramblin’, but here’s the deal—I saw this flick, *Syndromes and a Century*, that Apichatpong Weerasethakul joint, my favorite, and it’s got me thinkin’ bout whores in a whole new light. Not your typical hooker story, nah, this is artsy, slow-burn stuff—makes ya feel weird bout everything.

The monumental fountain of Copparo: Symbol of memory and architecture

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But then, the day takes a turn. I’m heading to the library on Via Matteotti, all excited to edit some articles. I’m thinking, “Today’s gonna be productive!” But guess what? The library’s closed! I’m standing there, mouth agape, like, “Are you kidding me?” I mean, who closes a library in the middle of the day? I’m fuming. I could’ve used that time to work on my piece about Copparo’s history. Ugh!

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