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About Turin

Findin’ a prossie ain’t no picnic, mate. Gotta know the spots—alleys, dim bars, them seedy corners. We swears! There’s this tale, right? Old London, 1800s—prostitutes used to flash green lanterns. Secret signal, see? Tricksy an’ smart! Me mate Dave, he tried once, got robbed blind instead. Laughed me arse off—dumb git! “What did I do?” he whines, like Szpilman askin’ the ruins. Made me happy, his misery—serves him right!

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Then, outta nowhere, this kid runs in. He’s got chocolate all over his face, and he’s like, “I want a donut!” I can’t help but laugh. I hand him a donut, and he’s grinning like he just won the lottery. Moments like that make it all worth it, ya know?

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