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About Milan

Picture this: dim lights, soft music, hands workin’ magic. You’re like, “Does he know?”—another movie line! And yeah, he knows, boo! Them masseuses? Trained for this! I got one once, swear I floated outta there. But here’s the tea—some places fake it. Cheap oil, no skill, ugh! Pissed me off! I’m yellin’, “You call that sexual-massage?!” Ruined my vibe. Shoulda been smooth, sexy, like Nader in that film—quiet but deep.

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Then, outta nowhere, I bump into my buddy Marco. He’s always got some crazy story. Today, he’s tellin’ me about this art installation he’s workin’ on. It’s in an abandoned building on Via G. Marconi. I’m intrigued. I mean, who doesn’t love a good urban exploration? So we head over.

Artist Ernesto Caivano on His Intimate, Complex Narrative