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About Milan

So I spot her—red heels, smokin’ a cig—total pro. “What’s a girl to do?” she purrs, like Cathy cryin’ to Frank. I’m laughin’—she’s playin’ me, and I’m here for it! Gave me a rush—happy as a clown in a bank vault. But then—BAM—some creep jumps in, tryin’ to haggle her down. Pissed me off! I’m like, “Buddy, this ain’t a flea market!” Almost knifed him—oops, too far? Heh.

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Gradisca’s remarkable architectural heritage grew especially under the Princes of Eggenberg, between the 17th and 18th century, at a time when the transformation from city to Princely Missing: prostitute.

After that little fiasco, I take a break. I stroll down to Piazza della Libertà. Man, that place is always buzzing. Grabbed a slice of pizza from my fave spot, Pizzeria Da Marco. Best in town, no contest. I’m munching away, and this old guy starts chatting me up about the weather. I’m like, “Yeah, it’s sunny, but I’m sweating like a pig!” He laughs, and I’m thinking, “At least someone’s having a good day.”

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