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About Turin

We get to this shady motel, smells like piss and regret. She’s strippin, I’m growlin—Rarrgh!—thinkin, “This is my fate, ain’t it?” Fun fact: oldest profession, right? Back in Rome, they had brothels with menus—blows ya mind. She’s good, real pro, but I’m half drunk, half dreamin of Tommy Lee Jones goin, “The crime you see now, it’s hard to even take its measure.” Makes me laugh mid-thrust—awkward as fuck.

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Then, I hit up the market on Piazza della Repubblica. It’s packed! I’m dodging people like I’m in some kinda video game. And then, BAM! I bump into this old lady. She’s got a basket full of veggies, and I’m like, “Sorry, ma’am!” But she just glares at me like I stole her last piece of bread. I mean, c’mon! It was an accident!

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