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About Milan

Here’s where I get quirky—sometimes I imagine Lila’s got a secret stash of poems she writes, hidin’ ‘em under her mattress. Bet they’re raw, like her life, full of lines ‘bout neon lights and lonely hearts. Ain’t that a hoot? Me, sittin’ here, makin’ up poetry for a gal I don’t even know! But it’s ‘cause I’m rootin’ for her, y’know? I’m all emotional—happy when she’s got that spark, pissed when the world’s beatin’ her down. Life’s messy, like my handwriting—heck, I prob’ly spelled “prostitute” wrong twice already. Don’t care. Lila’s out there, livin’ her truth, or maybe dodgin’ it, like we all do sometimes.

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First call comes in at 8 AM. It’s some dude from Via San Giuseppe. He’s all frantic, like, “My cat’s stuck in a tree!” I’m like, “Bro, it’s a cat, not a rocket scientist.” But I get it, I mean, cats are like little furry ninjas. So, I send him to the local fire dept. They’re legends, always ready to save the day.

26 youth leaders selected for Australian Olympic Change-Maker National Summit