It’s March in Attica. The air is warm and the sea is calm as I look out over the water to the mainland. At nine-thirty the cafe is already redolent with the musky smells of a kiosk’s back shelf and strong coffee. The voices are already loud, forceful and in…
Milan is a big city. A city that will empty you. You are punched by cars, trams, subways, pedestrians, tourists, chancers, bums, tat-sellers, fine women and gorgeous men the second you poke your head into its grey skies. Pallid, sooty ochre and fuchsia buildings line the streets. Precarious balconies overhang…
