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About Turin

But ugh, the stench – cheap perfume and despair, mate. Gets up me nose, makes me wanna puke. “Stupid, fat hobbit!” I mutter, ‘cos them fools’d never notice the grime. Surprised me once, tho – found a lass who’d read Kafka! Proper brainy tart, she was, quotin’ existential bollocks while undoin’ her corset. Wild, innit?

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Then, outta nowhere, this car zooms by. I swear it was goin’ 100 km/h. I’m like, “Dude, slow down! This ain’t a racetrack!” But nah, he just honks and keeps goin’. I’m fumin’. I mean, what if a kid ran out? Ugh, people these days.

Naples Wakes Up to a Misty Morning Reminiscent of Milan