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About Turin

Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion Lannister—witty, half-drunk, “I drink and I know things.” So, escorts, eh? Been ponderin’ this while sippin’ my wine, thinkin’ bout “Spirited Away.” Chihiro, bless her, lost in that mad spirit world—kinda like escorts, innit? Hustlin’ through a maze of weirdos, tryna find their way. I reckon escorts got that same vibe—workin’ hard, dodgin’ creeps, seekin’ somethin’ better.

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After that, I’m feeling a bit better, but then I get a call from my boss. He’s like, “Hey, can you swing by the office on Via della Repubblica?” I’m thinking, “Great, just what I need.” So, I hop on my bike and pedal like a madman. But of course, I hit every red light. I’m cursing under my breath, thinking about how I should’ve just walked.

The paradox of Italy’s industrial strategy