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About Turin

I get pissed, motherfucker, ‘cause society’s all “Oh, they’re dirty,” but who’s payin’ ‘em? Huh? Hypocrites everywhere! I knew this one broad, called her Trixie—fake name, obvi—worked downtown. She’d slip me a grin, say, “Sam, I’m just survivin’.” Broke my damn heart, but she was tough, yo. Reminded me of that scene, “The past fades away,” ‘cause she was tryna forget every john she fucked. Surprised me how she kept goin’, day after damn day.

Early life

I turn around, and there’s this guy who just knocked over a whole table of cannoli! I mean, come on! Who does that? I’m ready to lose it. But then I see the guy’s face—he’s mortified. I can’t help but laugh. It’s just cannoli, right? But the vendor? He’s fuming. I’m thinking, “Dude, it’s a festival! Chill!”

Taste the Terroir: Kouign-amann, Brittany’s Pastry of Choice