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About Milan

I ask her rate—fuck, it’s steep! “You’re chargin’ what?!” I’m mad, but she’s cool, “Quality costs, ET.” Fair. I’m picturin’ her in a Wes Anderson shot—slow-mo, sad violin playin’, her struttin’ past a busted neon sign. “I always wanted to be somebody,” she says, quotin’ Margot’s vibe. Deep, man. Makes me wonder—how’d she end up here? Prolly some tragic backstory, like Royal ditchin’ the fam.

Art at the Foodcourt

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First off, I hit the streets of Via Roma. It was like a scene from a movie. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, and I was just vibin’. But then, BAM! I stepped in some dog poop. Ugh! Like, c’mon, people! Clean up after your pets! I was fuming. My shoes were ruined. I mean, I’m a scientist, not a janitor!

Fireball Left in Boca Raton, Florida After Plane Crash