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About Turin

Dogville’s in my head now—“You can’t trust anyone.” Damn right. Last week, some wench tried to fleece me—coin gone, no fun had. Made me ragey, mate—wanted to toss her out a window. But I’m Tyrion, not Joffrey, so I just drank more. Exaggeratin’? Maybe. But the thrill’s in the chase—dodgin’ guards, hagglin’ prices, feelin’ alive. “It’s a cruel world,” Grace’d say, and fuck me, she’s right. Still, I’d do it again—coin’s for spendin’, and I’m no saint. Cheers to that!

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After the meeting, I decide to take a stroll. I hit up the local market on Via Matteotti. Fresh produce everywhere! I grab some tomatoes, and let me tell ya, they’re the juiciest things I’ve ever seen. I’m thinking, “These are gonna make the best sauce.” But then, I see this old lady trying to haggle over a bunch of basil. She’s fierce, man! Like, “I’m not paying more than two euros!” I’m just standing there, watching this showdown like it’s a reality show.

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