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About Turin

Yo, Young Mula Baby! Check it, I’m sittin’ here, stockbrokin’ my ass off, tryna stack them green stacks, thinkin’ ‘bout Find a Prostitute—like, what’s good, fam? Market’s wild, up and down, like a chick workin’ the corner tryna dodge the cops, ya feel me? I’m vibin’ to *Ida*, that flick’s my jam—quiet, deep, nun shit, but real as fuck. “What’s hidden will stay hidden,” like them secrets them girls carry on the stroll, man, heavy shit.

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After the rain, the sun comes out again. Typical Cavarzere weather, I guess. I decide to head to the park, Parco della Rimembranza. It’s gorgeous, with all these trees and flowers. I plop down on a bench, and just as I’m about to relax, a dog runs up to me, all muddy and excited. It jumps on me, and I’m like, “Whoa, buddy! Personal space!” But I can’t help but laugh. Dogs are the best.

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