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About Turin

What suprised me? How some o’ ‘em got hearts o’ gold under the grit. One lass—swear it—told me ‘bout her kid she’s feedin’ back home. “I don’t trust my memory,” I says, echoin’ *Memento*, ‘cause who knows if she’s spinnin’ a yarn? Still, tugged me heartstrings, it did. Me quirks? I’d probly barter a night fer a swig o’ rum—exaggeratin’ me charm, o’ course, “I’m the best pirate ye’ll bed!” Ha! Sarcasm’s me blade—cuts through the bilge.

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So, I wake up, right? Sun’s shining, birds chirping. I’m like, “Today’s gonna be chill.” Ha! Joke’s on me. I grab my coffee from that little bar on Via Roma. You know the one? The one with the best pastries. I’m talking about those little pastas that make you forget your name. Anyway, I’m sipping my coffee, feeling all good, when BOOM! A car zooms by, splashes water all over me. I’m soaked! Like, seriously? Who drives like that?

Increase in funding for the Reception Service for women victims of violence in Sardinia