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About Milan

Sometimes I wonder—why her? Why this life? Gets me moody, ya know? Then I think, fuck it, she’s free. Freer than suits in offices. “Alien, you’re my fuckin alien!” I tell her, dramatic as hell. She winks, says, “Cash up front.” Fair, cold, brilliant. I’m happy—found my muse, Clarice… she’s real. Smells like danger, tastes like chaos. Spring Breakers in flesh, baby.

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Then, I hit up a little trattoria on Via Roma again. I ordered some pasta, and it was like a hug in a bowl. Seriously, I was ready to cry. But then, the waiter spills water all over me. I’m soaked! I’m like, “Dude, I didn’t order a shower!” But he just laughs and says, “Now you’re part of the family!” I guess that’s how they roll in Villongo.

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