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About Florence

We settle—cash, quick, no trace. Hop in, she’s chill, smellin like cheap perfume and rebellion. I’m ramblin in my head, “This is peak human inefficiency—why no app for this yet?” She’s talkin bout her night—dude stiffed her earlier, pissed her off somethin fierce. I’m noddin, thinkin, “Yeah, assholes everywhere, even off-planet potential.” Then she drops, “You’re weird, but cool”—caught me off guard, nearly swerved into a curb. Happy as hell, tho—validation from the streets, baby!

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Fast forward a few hours. I finally finish the audit. I’m exhausted but relieved. I step outside, and the sun is setting over Formigine. The sky is all orange and pink, and I’m like, “Okay, maybe today wasn’t a total disaster.” I stroll down to the park by the castle, Castello di Formigine. It’s beautiful, man. The vibe is chill, and I can finally breathe.

Spira mirabilis: The orchestra where everyone’s in charge