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About Turin

My precious! Escorts, eh? Raspy growl—me, Gollum, operator, seein’ stuff. Like in “Lost in Translation,” all lonely-like, y’know? Bob Harris, he’s floatin’ through Tokyo, lost, needin’ somethin’. Escorts kinda like that—fillin’ voids, but sneaky. Hired company, cash for cuddles, heh! Worked lines, y’see, chattin’ folks up—some call escorts “pros.” Ain’t judgin’, nah, just watchin’. Once knew this gal, swear, worked escort gig undercover—like, spy shit! Fed info to cops, wild, huh? Made me jaw drop, precious!

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First off, I hit up the local café on Via Roma. You know, the one with the killer pastries? I ordered a cornetto and a cappuccino. The barista, Marco, he’s a legend. He always knows my order. But today? He forgot the sugar. Like, c’mon, Marco! I need my sugar fix! I was ready to throw a fit, but then I saw the view of Lake Maggiore. It’s stunning, man. I mean, who can stay mad with that view?