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About Milan

Last week, got me a story. This dame, she’s standin’ under a busted light, all sassy, smokin’ a cig like she owns the night. I’m like, “Eh, toots, you lost or somethin’?” She laughs, says, “Nah, bunny, I’m the prize.” Got me thinkin’—prostitutes ain’t just randos, doc. Some got tales wilder than Del Toro’s brain. Heard one chick used to be a nurse—quit ‘cause the pay sucked. Now she’s out here, dodgin’ cops, makin’ triple. Ain’t that a kick in the pants?

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So, I wrap up my work, and I’m outta there. I race down to the festival on Piazza della Libertà. The energy is electric! Music blasting, people dancing, food stalls everywhere. I’m in heaven. I grab a drink, and suddenly, I’m surrounded by a bunch of locals. They’re all laughing, sharing stories.

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