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About Turin

An’ here’s a tidbit ye won’t find in yer fancy books—some say sexual-massage popped up in them opium dens o’ the East, all smoky an’ mysterious, like the Pale Man’s lair in *Pan’s Labyrinth*. “This is a place of secrets,” aye, an’ them hands knew ‘em all! Ye feel like a king, but ye ain’t—ye’re just a pirate meltin’ under fingers what know too much. Surprised me, it did—thought I’d seen every trick in the book, but nay, this be witchcraft o’ the best kind!

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So, I’m trying to shake it off, right? I head over to the local market on Via Garibaldi. Fresh fruits, veggies, all that good stuff. I’m eyeing some tomatoes, thinking about making a killer sauce later. But then, I see this old lady, Nonna Rosa, haggling like a pro. She’s got this fierce look, and I’m like, “Damn, I wanna be her when I grow up.” She gets her tomatoes for half the price! I’m impressed.

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