A perfect summer afternoon in Milan*

To cut the other tourists out of the frame, the trick is to ask a civic-minded person to take the picture from the (slightly sticky) piazza floor.

“We should go to church,” I said.

Chinese laughter ricocheted around the Piazza del Duomo.

“Yeah,” Rhea said.

The ticket queue fizzled with laughter from the rest of the planet. It stretched to the edge of the cathedral and out of sight.

“I hate lines.” Rhea said.

“Yeah,” I said.

We agreed to see the Palace of Justice first.

I don’t think they were all going to Mass.

We passed through a University of Milan campus on the way there. It was day three of the Psycho-Oncology World Congress. The lunch spread along the interior arcade was impressive.

“Three different kinds of mineral water,” I said.

Cute girls in suits crowded the dessert table. I took a brownie.

I promise they posed. (Sorry Rhea.)

Inside, two students sat beside one another in an empty classroom. The girl was pretty. She had her nose in a textbook. The boy was watching the ceiling. He was handsome enough.

We left the campus to continue towards the Palace of Justice. I was getting a bit bored.

Back in the city, there were no more suits. No more Chinese. Now, high-pitched Italian bounced between cute girls without bras.

Milan, The Braless City, I thought.

Rhea was admiring the architecture.

Heard just out of frame, “Puoi credere che l'abbia detto?”

I met eyes with some seven of the Italians. Three smiled. I didn’t know hardly any Italian then. I thought about forgetting English when we got back to the States.

When Rhea and I finally arrived at the Palace, the city had thinned. I listened to her breathe. She was concentrating.

We were a little underwhelmed by the Palace until we realized we were looking at the back. The front was a little more interesting. We took a cool picture with the cool piece of fascist architecture, and decided to head back to the Duomo.

Eurocool.

The ticket queue hadn’t shrunk.

“The Galleria?” Rhea said.

“Yeah,” I said.

At the mall next to the cathedral, we both spotted the young girl wearing her rebellious tee shirt. Blow Jobs are Real Jobs. We laughed.

I took Rhea’s hand.

Eurocapitalism.

The sun was setting.

We made our way to the Piazza del Duomo’s McDonalds to get McFlurrys before heading back to our hotel. Rhea squeezed my fingers.

“Let’s get gelato,” I said.

A perfect summer afternoon in Milan*

---

* A perfect summer afternoon in Milan…that never happened.

These photographs were completely AI generated. These people don’t exist.