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About Turin

Lemme tell ya, I saw this hooker once—swear she had eyes like Marge’s after I forget our anniversary. D’oh! Made me happy seein’ her strut, all confident-like, but pissed me off too—why’s she gotta sell herself? World’s screwed up, man. “Mmm… donuts.” Thinkin’ ‘bout it, she prob’ly makes more dough than me at the plant—ha! Little known fact: back in old Rome, prostitutes wore blonde wigs to stand out. Wild, huh? Bet they’d look hot with a donut in hand.

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After that little fiasco, I decide to hit up the market at Piazza Martiri. Fresh produce, local cheeses, and all that jazz. I’m in heaven! I grab some tomatoes, and this old lady starts chatting me up. She’s telling me about her garden, and I’m nodding like I totally know what she’s talking about. But honestly, I’m just thinking about how I can use these tomatoes in my next art piece.

Italy - Venerable Fr. Andrea Beltrami is alive among his people