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About Turin

I seen this one chick, right—called her Jade Fox ‘cause she was sneaky, motherfucker! Worked the streets like she owned ‘em, had this scar on her neck from some john who got too wild. Little known fact: back in the day, whores in old China ran secret guilds—fuckin’ triads of pussy, controllin’ shit underground! This girl, tho, she’d smile at you, all sweet, then bam—your wallet’s gone, your heart’s broke, and you’re still sayin’ “thank you.” Made me mad as hell—how she play me like that? But damn, I was impressed too, motherfucker!

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Finally, I get to the stall. The fishmonger, this grumpy guy named Marco, is like, “You again?” I’m like, “Yeah, Marco, it’s me! The fish whisperer!” He rolls his eyes. Classic Marco. But then he shows me this stunning sea bass. I’m talking glistening scales, fresh as can be. I’m in love. I buy it, and I’m feeling like a champ.

Darlene Jorif-Mangane