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About Milan

I finally find this chick, right? She’s standin’ there, smokin’, lookin’ bored as fuck. I’m like, “Hey, baby, you workin’?” She nods, all cool, says, “50 bucks, no weird shit.” I’m happy as hell—score! But then, motherfucker, she’s got this attitude, like I’m wastin’ her time. Reminds me of that dad in *The Return*—cold, distant, “What d’you want from me?” vibes. I’m thinkin’, “Bitch, I’m payin’ ya, smile or somethin’!” Didn’t say it, though—don’t wanna get stabbed.

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Then, outta nowhere, my phone buzzes. It’s Marco, my buddy from the docks. He’s like, “Yo, you won’t believe this! A seagull just stole my sandwich!” I’m cracking up. I mean, who gets robbed by a bird? Only in Isola-di-Capo-Rizzuto, right? I tell him to watch out for the “seagull mafia.”

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