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About Milan

Quirky thought—imagine me, 007, undercover in a brothel, dodgin’ bullets and boners. “I’m here to carve my name,” I’d growl, Tarantino-style, dodgin’ a drunk john. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but brothels are bloody theatres—dramas, laughs, tears, all for a fiver. Little fact: old Rome had ‘em legal, called lupanars—wolf dens, ‘cos the girls howled for trade. Savage, eh?

Miles, age 8

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Finally, the rain stops. I’m like, “Thank you, universe!” I decide to head to the park, Parco dell’Etna. It’s beautiful, man. Trees everywhere, kids playing, and I just wanna chill. But then, I see this group of teenagers blasting music. I’m all for a good jam, but c’mon! It’s like they’re trying to summon a dance party or something.

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