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About Turin

Monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” I’m feelin it, the itch. Not just for the deed—tho yeah, that too—but to *know* her. What’s her deal? She says her name’s Candy, probs fake, but who cares? I’m Dexter, I don’t judge. She’s twirlin her hair, lookin at me like I’m a puzzle. “You’re weird, strings,” she says. Weird! Me! Pot callin kettle black, babe.

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So, I finish my coffee and ask the barista where to get that tortellini. He points me to a place down the street, Trattoria da Nino. I’m pumped! I head out, but then I get distracted. There’s this street performer on Via Garibaldi, playin’ the accordion like a boss. I stop to watch, and suddenly, I’m feelin’ all the feels. Like, how can someone make music that good? I toss him a couple of euros, and he gives me a nod. I’m like, “Yeah, I’m a generous forest master!”

Porsche heads to WEC race in Italy’s Imola with wind in the sails