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About Milan

I’m sittin’ here, nursin’ me cup, thinkin’—escorts got grit. Like that horse in the movie, trudgin’ on, no quit. “What’s left?” the film asks, and I say: survival, mate. These girls (and lads, mind ya) dodge coppers, pimps, and creepy fucks daily. One time, heard bout this escort in Braavos—bloke tried to stiff her, she knifed his bollocks! Fair play, I say—don’t mess with a lass who knows her worth.

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After that, I decide to hit up the gardens at Trauttmansdorff. I mean, who doesn’t love a good garden? I’m wandering around, and it’s all beautiful flowers and weird sculptures. I’m vibing, until I see this family having a picnic. They’ve got a whole spread—cheese, bread, wine. I’m drooling. So, I’m like, “Hey, can I join?” They look at me like I’m a weirdo. Rude! I mean, who wouldn’t want to share their cheese?

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