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About Turin

So, *whore*. Makes me think of grit, y’know? Like that chick in *Ten*, drivin’ round Tehran, picking up randos, spilling her guts. “I don’t need anyone!” she snaps. That’s *whore* energy – bold, brassy, takin’ no crap. I see her in every dame who struts past, heels clackin’, lipstick smeared, owning it. No capes, dahling! Capes are for suckers who trip over their own drama. *Whore* don’t got time for that.

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Then I hit up the local café on Piazza della Libertà. Best cappuccino ever! I swear, it’s like they put magic in that foam. I’m sipping, feeling all fancy, when this old dude starts chatting me up. He’s like, “You know, in my day, we didn’t have fancy coffee machines.” I’m thinking, “Yeah, and in my day, we didn’t have to listen to your life story.” But I smiled and nodded. Classic Samassi, right?

Samassi Abou is not a bus driver in Basildon