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About Milan

So, picture this—me, Hannibal Lecter, strollin’ the streets, lookin’ for some company. Not to eat ‘em, mind ya—well, maybe a nibble. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” sure, but a gal’s gotta have some fun too, right? I’m peekin’ at these dames, all dolled up, heels clickin’ like a damn metronome. Makes me happy, seein’ ‘em strut—confidence, power, ya dig? But then, ugh, the creeps lurkin’ nearby—pisses me off. Slimy bastards thinkin’ they own the night. Makes me wanna serve ‘em up with a nice Chianti.

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I duck into a little shop to wait it out. It’s cozy, and the owner is super sweet. She offers me a towel and some pastries. I’m like, “You’re my new best friend!” We chat about life in Cerano, and she tells me about the best spots to visit. I’m taking mental notes, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside.

A Highland Fling: Tartans and tweeds head north this Autumn