If on a winter's night a traveler pass by, he would sure enter and order a shot of whiskey. Not a single literary character could stay away from Peppuccio's bar, a tiny strip of jazz music, human wildlife and social derelicts. Because the crowd of this unshiny spot of the glamorous Navigli  area in Milan pop out from a Tom Wait's song, soaked in cheap alcohol, unglorious stories and sexual healings. King Peppuccio behind the counter dispenses life lessons on the rolling rhythm of glasses and drums, while his court waits for the next drink, the next song, the next person to come in and tell a story. So, traveler, don't ask too much and don't look too much. Just grab your glass and fit in. A storyteller will come up and read your life. He may be wrong. Or simply drunk. But if it's late enough, as in these photos, you oughta be, too.