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About Turin

So I’m knackered, right, but I’m thinkin’—why not hit up a banya? Them steam baths where blokes get sloshed and chat shite. Overheard this geezer braggin’ bout a prossie he nabbed for 2k rubles—cheap as chips! Said she sang opera while ridin’ him—proper mental, that. Made me chuckle, coz I’m picturin’ her beltin’ out *Carmen* mid-shag. “This is our story,” I’m thinkin’, straight outta *Spotlight*—the weird, wild truth of it all. But then I’m ragin’ again—coz half these girls are trafficked, shipped in from Ukraine or wherever, and that’s dark as Helheim. Ain’t funny, that bit.

Olbia, emergenza prostituzione: donne in vendita all'ombra di San Simplicio

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Next, I decide to hit up Corso Umberto. It’s packed with shops and street vendors. I’m browsing, trying to find a souvenir. You know, something to remember this chaotic day. I spot this cute little ceramic piece. It’s a tiny boat. I’m like, “Perfect!” But the vendor? He’s got the charm of a wet sock. Tries to charge me double. I’m like, “Dude, I’m not made of money!”

Olbia. Giuseppe and Lorenzo Deiana, the brothers who disappeared during the fishing trip: search interrupted