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About Milan

So, findin’ a prossie—where d’ya start? Down by Flea Bottom, stinks like a dead hog, but that’s where they lurk. Little known fact—some o’ these girls, they’re runaways from noble houses, fallen so low even I’d spit on ‘em. Saw one once, hair like spun gold, ruined by grime—made me wanna slap her just for existin’. “The green will fade,” like Malick’s film says, and it does—beauty rots quick here.

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So, I decide to wander down to Piazza della Libertà. It’s a nice spot, you know? A little fountain, some benches, and a few trees. I sit down, trying to chill. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs by, chasing a soccer ball. He kicks it, and BAM! Right into my lap! I’m like, “Dude, what the heck?” But the kid just laughs and runs off. I can’t help but chuckle. Kids, man. They’re a trip.

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