Back at Corso Garibaldi in Milan my dad had a ramshackle studio in the heart of soupy Milan with a sleeping platform and the delicious smell of oil paint and tobacco smoke in the air. (possibly not delicious to all but for me even now the smell of oil paints brings back such sweet feelings for times past)
Cats hung around everywhere particularly these yowling minnies. The local ladies would leave the stray cats great big bowls of leftover spaghetti bolognese for dinner. Lucky them!