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About Turin

First off, I’m no square – I know the streets hum with secrets. Prostitutes? They’re everywhere, babe, if ya squint right. Back in ’71 – little known fact – LAPD busted this ring run outta a chop shop. Girls hid in trunks! Wild, right? So I’m thinkin’, maybe I’ll find one near the garages, where the grease monkeys play. Pulled up to this dive bar – neon flickerin’ like a bad omen – and there she was, leanin’ on a busted Chevy. “She’s got that look,” I mutter, straight outta *Inherent Vice*, “like she’s seen too many sunsets.”

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So, I duck into a shop on Via Garibaldi. It’s a little boutique, and the owner is this quirky dude. He’s got this wild hair and a mustache that could probably have its own zip code. He starts chatting me up about watches. I’m like, “Dude, I’m a watchmaker. I know my stuff.” But he’s going on about some ancient timepiece that supposedly belonged to a king or something. I’m rolling my eyes, but it’s kinda funny.

Five preseason games for Belluno