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About Turin

Oi, thou art a wild one, eh? Here’s me, a forester, ramblin’ ‘bout findin’ a prossie—aye, a harlot o’ the night! Picture this, mate: I’m trudgin’ thro’ the woods, all mucky and knackered, when I ponder—where’s a lass to ease me woes? Like in *Inception*, “the dream is real,” innit? I’m lost in me own head, wonderin’ if she’s a phantom or flesh.

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Then I hit up the office on Via della Libertà. You know, the one with the weird statue of that guy holding a fish? Yeah, that one. I walk in, and my boss is already on my case. “Where are the quarterly reports?” Like, chill, dude! I just got here! But whatever, I dive into the numbers.

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