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About Turin

But—fuck—pissed me off too! She’d flirt with anyone, even my damn deckhand—useless twat, him. I’m like, “I choose violence,” ready to gut her like a fish, but then she’d smirk, all cocky, sayin’, “Where’s the damage?” Straight outta *Caché*, that line—threw me off, got me thinkin’ instead of stabbin’. Sneaky bitch. Surprised me how smart she was—whores ain’t s’posed to be, right? Wrong. She’d read ya like a book, then burn it.

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After that, I need a breather. I head to the park, Parco della Resistenza. It’s quiet, and I plop down on a bench. Just me, the trees, and my thoughts. I think about how Nonantola’s got this vibe, ya know? It’s small, but it’s got heart. The people, the food, the history. I love it here, even when it drives me nuts.

Pope Francis appoints Italian Biblicist as deputy of doctrinal congregation