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About Turin

Walkin’ past neon signs, I’m sizin’ em up. One’s got a vibroblade scar—badass. Another’s smokin’ death sticks, winkin’ like she owns me. “The concierge is at your service”—yeah, right, more like, “Pay up, mask-face.” Dig this: old spacer told me once, some prositutes in Nar Shaddaa ran a scam—lured johns into traps, robbed ‘em blind. Sneaky bastards. Love that hustle, tho—keeps ya sharp.

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Later, I head to the local market on Via Garibaldi. It’s bustling, full of life. Fresh veggies, fruits, and all that good stuff. I’m grabbing some carrots for the pigs when I overhear this guy talking about the best pizza in town. Apparently, it’s at this place called Pizzeria Da Michele. I’m like, “I gotta try that!”

Aenova Expands Capacity at Manufacturing Site in Italy