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About Milan

So, whores—oldest job, right? Ain’t no sugarcoatin’ it. Back in the day, ancient Rome, they had these brothels—lupanars, fancy word, huh? Stank of sweat and cheap wine. Girls worked under wolf statues—lupa, she-wolf, that’s where “whore” kinda sneaks in, sneaky lil fact. Makes me smirk, thinkin’ bout it. “I hate everything,” but that’s clever, gotta admit. Whores ain’t dumb—survivors, man.

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After that little fiasco, I head over to the old church, Chiesa di San Giovanni Battista. It’s stunning, man. The architecture is wild. I’m just standing there, taking it all in, when I hear this loud crash. I whip around, and some kid just knocked over a statue! I’m like, “Dude, what are you doing?” The kid’s mom is mortified. I can’t help but chuckle.

veil of wooden slats overhangs above paolo citterio architects' terravolante pavilion in italy