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About Milan

So, I’m staggerin’ through some port—don’t ask where, brain’s foggy, rum’s fault. Streets smell like fish an’ regret. There’s this gal, right? Red lips, skirt shorter than me attention span. I’m thinkin’, *Jack, you’ve seen worse deals.* But hold up—reminds me o’ that line, “Can you live without knowing?” Aye, makes me wonder—does she choose this? World’s a cruel bugger sometimes.

Com. v. Vignola, J. (memorandum)

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So, I’m trying to get to the local forestry office, right? But the streets are packed. I’m dodging people left and right. There’s this old dude selling cherries on the corner of Via Garibaldi. He’s shouting, “Ciliegie fresche! Fresh cherries!” I’m thinking, “Dude, chill! I’m just trying to get to work!” But I can’t resist. I buy a bag. Can’t say no to fresh cherries, am I right?

M.A. Vignola is in her ‘flow state’