It's a desolate Monday night at Casola's Pizzeria on SW 17th Avenue in Miami, just south of where I-95 ends and close to where suburbia begins. On weekend nights, the joint is jammed with loud, drunken clubland refugees soaking up the evening's booze with the mammoth slices. But tonight the joint is quiet and feels haunted by the... More >>>
Courtesy of Amy Fleisher
Amy Fleisher: "I am the 'maybe' kid; I am the 'maybe' spokeswoman!"