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About Milan

Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion Lannister—witty as hell, “I drink and I know things.” So, you wanna talk findin’ a prostitute? Buckle up, coz I got thoughts—messy, loud, real ones! Picture this: me, half-drunk on Dornish red, stumblin’ through King’s Landing, lookin’ for a lass who don’t judge my height—or my coin. I’ve seen it all, from brothels smellin’ like roses to ones reekin’ of piss. Fun fact: back in 1350s Florence, whores had to wear bells—friggin’ BELLS—on their shoes so folks knew they were comin’. Imagine that jingle followin’ you down an alley, eh? Hilarious, but damn annoyin’ too.

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So, I’m cruisin’ down Via Roma, right? The sun’s blazin’, and I’m feelin’ good. I stop by this little café, Bar Centrale. Best espresso ever! I mean, I could swim in it. But then, bam! My phone buzzes. My buddy Marco’s like, “Dude, meet me at the beach!”

The Life and Career of Loredana Berte