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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?

E a Santeramo in Colle. Due arresti

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First off, I’m cruisin’ down Via Dante, right? The sun’s shining, the sea’s glimmering like a million bucks. I’m thinkin’, “Today’s gonna be epic!” But then, BAM! My bike tire goes flat. Like, seriously? In the middle of the street? I’m standin’ there, cursing like a sailor. “Great start, genius!” I mutter to myself.

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