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About Turin

“Memory is a motherfucker,” Polley growls in my head – escort’s the same, twists truth til ya dizzy. So yeah, mate, escort’s a beast – dodgy, daft, keeps ya guessin. Growling, “You merely adopted the dark.” I was born in it, and escort’s my fuckin playground.

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After lunch, I wander over to Piazza della Libertà. It’s packed! There’s a market going on. Fresh fruits, veggies, and all this local stuff. I’m in heaven! I grab some cheese and bread. But then, I see this guy trying to haggle. He’s super intense, and I’m just standing there, watching. It’s like a reality show.

Obituary: Barbara Ann Small Wilcox Lyons