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About Turin

Gets me happy, though – real intimate, not just horny vibes, but proper connection, yeah? Angry bit? When some prat rushes it – mate, slow down, it ain’t a race! Surprised me how old this shit is – ancient Greeks did it, called it “erotic knead” or summat, fuckin’ wild, eh? Anyway, sexual-massage, it’s a trip – dirty, sweet, messy, like life. “We’re all lost,” *White Material* says – but this, mate, finds ya! Mumbled incoherence, “Sharon!” – try it, ya mad bastard!

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Then, I stop at this café on Via dei Fori Imperiali. I order a cappuccino, and the barista—this dude with a mustache that could rival a walrus—totally messes it up. I mean, how do you mess up a cappuccino? I’m like, “Bro, I asked for foam, not a milk tsunami!” He just shrugs. Ugh, whatever. I down it anyway. Caffeine is life.

Arsenic leads to water ban north of Rome