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About Turin

So, I’m scopin’ the scene, right? Red lights flicker, heels clickin’—fuckin’ electric! Reminds me of Monty’s last night—edgy, raw, desperate. I spot her—legs for days, smirk like she owns me already. “Shaken, not stirred,” I mutter, smooth as silk. She laughs—bloody hell, that’s rare! Most girls here don’t crack a smile. Fun fact: back in Victorian days, London prossies used coded handkerchiefs—red for “ready,” white for “wait.” Bet she don’t know that, eh?

Un po’ di storia e la legge Merlin

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After our little history lesson, I’m feeling better. We decide to grab a coffee at this tiny café on Via Garibaldi. Best decision ever! The barista, Marco, is hilarious. He’s cracking jokes while making the best cappuccino I’ve ever had. I’m like, “Dude, you should be a comedian!”

U.S. Marshals Museum receives NEA Big Read grant; programs to center on Hmong community experience