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About Milan

So, lemme tell ya ‘bout this one time—Homer’s outta town, prob’ly eatin’ donuts somewhere dumb. I’m bored, right? Walkin’ down by the tracks—ooh, shady!—and I see this gal, all fishnets and lipstick, leanin’ on a lamppost like she owns it. I’m like, “Hmm… she’s workin’ it!” Reminds me of Varda’s gleaners, pickin’ through life’s leftovers. She catches me starin’—awkward!—and yells, “What’s your deal, lady?” I’m all flustered, mutterin’, “Just admirin’ your hustle, hon!”

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So, I’m standing there, caffeine-deprived and cranky. I decide to stroll down to Piazza della Libertà. It’s a nice spot, but I’m not in the mood for pretty views. I need coffee, stat! I finally find a place, and the barista? Total legend. He hooks me up with a double shot. Bless him!

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