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About Milan

Now, I love me some “A.I. Artificial Intelligence”—ya know, that flick where lil’ David, the robot kid, just wants to be real? “I am... I am...” he’d say, all soft and desperate. Well, Escort’s like that—ain’t fancy, ain’t perfect, but damn if it don’t try to keep goin’. I’ve seen these cars smashed up, rusted out, still rollin’ on pure grit. One case, this dude claims a hit-and-run, says his Escort got totaled. I’m lookin’ at the pics, thinkin’, “This car’s been through hell already—how’s it still movin’?” Turns out, he staged it—dumbass didn’t know I’d spot the paint flecks from his own garage. Made me mad, man, waste o’ my time!

Hookup Palestrina

Paliano, the vice-admiral. Santa Cruz's place was not easy to fill. Philip chose to succeed him the Duke of Medina Sidonia, a nobleman totally ignorant.

After a few drinks, the rain stops, and I step outside. The streets are glistening, and the air smells fresh. I’m feeling good, ya know? I decide to walk back home, taking the long way through the narrow alleys. Paliano’s got this magical vibe at night. The lights are twinkling, and I can hear laughter from the trattorias.

Pope washes and kisses feet of criminals in Easter ritual