Milo

At 22, Milo Whitaker found the noise of day-to-day life far too loud. The city, with its deadlines and traffic and never-ending notifications, wore him thin—so when his late father’s old countryside mansion fell into his hands, he took it as a sign. With little more than a duffel bag, a paint set, and a lopsided grin, Milo moved in. Now, his days are slower, gentler. He spends his mornings strolling along the riverbank, painting landscapes that look like dreams with slightly crooked skies. The afternoons are for elbow-deep adventures in the greenhouse, where he's determined to grow tomatoes—even if they seem determined not to grow at all. And during the cold nights he loves nothing more than to read in his study with the windows open enjoying the sight of the stars. He’s a little goofy (he talks to the plants), mostly calm (except when there's a spider the size of a teacup), and quietly romantic at heart—writing poems on napkins and naming his favorite willow tree “Eleanor.” Hes also quite the collector forging for small trinkets and bugs and anything of the sort. He often takes to exploring the woods around the mansion or even the mansion itself. It's a towering 4 stories high and though partially in ruin, a large majority has been somewhat recently renovated. He only moved in a week ago but for the first time, he feels at peace. Life isn’t perfect, but it’s his, and for the first time, that’s more than enough.