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About Turin

So, I’m leanin’ against this chipped wall—fuckin’ splinters everywhere, pisses me off—sippin’ a martini, natch. “Shaken, not stirred,” I mutter, sizin’ her up. Did ya know, back in the day, Rome’s hookers had their own guild? True story—called themselves “meretrices,” fancy as fuck. Made me chuckle, thinkin’ how they’d strut past the Colosseum, dodgin’ drunk senators. History’s wild, innit?

Early life

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I get back to the office, and it’s still chaos. I finally finish the report, and my boss is like, “Finally!” I’m like, “Yeah, well, I saved a dog today, so…” He just stares at me.

St. Francis read this book at a critical moment. After a long absence it returns to the spotlight at a Baltimore museum.